


Innocent Until

by L1av



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Blow Jobs With Teeth, Bondage, Bottom Steve Rogers, Cock Cages, Cock Warming, Come Eating, Defendant Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Falling In Love, Flogging, Fluff and Angst, Forced Orgasm, Gay Steve Rogers, Heavy BDSM, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Negotiation, Lawyer Bucky Barnes, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Moral Ambiguity, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Orgasm Denial, Panic Attacks, Porn With Plot, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Praise Kink, Protective Bucky Barnes, Secret Relationship, Sex Toys, Social Media, Sounding, Sub Steve Rogers, Subspace, Switch Bucky Barnes, Top Bucky Barnes, Trials, Wax Play, angsty Steve Rogers, switch steve rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:46:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 136,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L1av/pseuds/L1av
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:</p><p> Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Motion to Appoint  Counsel

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing this! Other shout out to [holahydra](holahydra.tumblr.com) for your wonderful encouragement and enthusiasm. Without them this fic may never have seen daylight. 
> 
> As the tags suggest, this fic features a Steve who did in fact kill people, though we learn his reasons were not malicious. This fic features EXTREME HEAVY BDSM. This fic features law (brought to you by a law student). This fic features moral ambiguity. This fic features everything you're not supposed to do as an attorney. 
> 
> Moving on:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** this chapter contains a single mention that rape occurs in prisons.

_‘At about 9PM last night, terror struck just outside of Fraunces Tavern, a popular bar and grill in Brooklyn, New York. Two men were killed and two others seriously injured. Eyewitnesses claim a man attacked the group, including Gwen Stacy, the girlfriend of one of the deceased. The man, Steven Rogers, bludgeoned the men to death in a violent passion before surrendering to cops when they arrived. Today, we’ll talk to some of the eyewitnesses and discover, just how terrifying this brutal killing was. I’m Shirleen Allicot and this is ABC 7, Eyewitness News.’_

_-Shirleen Allicot, ABC 7 Eyewitness News, New York, New York (2015)._

Bucky checks into the prison, flashing his badge and signing the check-in sheet at the front window. “How’s it goin’, Sam?” he asks the woman sitting behind the glass.

“Same ol, same ol,” she replies easily, looking up at him with her tacky blue eyeshadow and red curly hair. Bucky’s pretty sure she’s been working at the prison for as long as it’s been in existence. She’s a lovely lady and despite her ‘I’m a crazy cat lady’ looks, she’s kind and does a lot for Bucky when she can. So he doesn’t judge.

“See ya,” he speaks before listening to the blaring alarm that signals the doors are momentarily unlocked for him. He’s ushered into the prison, walking along with one of the guards and moving through the halls easily.

“You think he’ll crack this time? Cut a deal?” the guard asks.

“Fuck if I know,” Bucky answers, shrugging. “Guy’s a fucking rapist.”

“He’s your client?”

“Doesn’t mean I’ve gotta like ‘im,” Bucky shoots back, his brow creasing when he sees his client sitting at the table. He looks smug as always. Bucky sometimes hates the clients he takes, but for every six he knows are guilty, there’s always that innocent one. The one he really wants to advocate for and make his job defending rapists and murderers worth it.

Bucky sits down, pulling out the guy’s file. Licking his lips obsessively, Bucky scans over the material before looking up. “State’s cuttin’ you a deal if you plead guilty.”

The guy sniffs, seeming unfazed. “Bitch was drunk.”

“Bitch is suing you in civil court too, you really want twenty years in this shithole on top of scrambling to find a way to pay her off?” Bucky responds, his eyes darkening as he watches this guy. Rugged jawline, purpling eyes. He’s getting beat up in here. “You’re too small. You’ll get eaten the fuck alive in here for that long. State’s willing to give you five in county jail. That’s easy living.”

The guy tosses his head to the side, his lips twitching, clearly battling something in his head.

“Look, I can argue all day that she was drunk and consent was granted, but this is New York and precedent isn’t easy for that. This state’s still pro-female in rape cases and with media pressure to not condone ‘rape culture,’ you’re really not looking at a good case. They got semen from you, you left scratches on her wrists and need I mention the bites?”

The guy visibly cringes.

“Admit it and move the fuck on, Erick. And stop calling your victim a ‘bitch.’ That doesn’t really look good to a jury. You really wanna spend twenty years getting your ass pounded in here? You know what they do to rapists right?”

Erick looks up, his eyes round as shock is finally taking hold of him– reality setting in.

“They rape you just as bad.”

* * *

 

Carol Danvers _@CaptainCarolD_ – 45min  
What a sick fuck! Bail denied! Good [#RottenRogers](http://i66.tinypic.com/2hd0ea9.png)

Mack Mackenzie _@MackMackenziee_ – 23min  
Seriously? Denied bail?? This guy was SAVING someone! [#RescueRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tweet2.jpg_zpskso7jsms.png)

Grant Ward _@HailHyGrant_ – 12min  
@MackMackenziee And he BASHED someone’s face in? Glad bail’s denied. [#RottenRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tweet3.jpg_zpsm1owxplh.png)

An hour later and a plea bargain signed, Bucky walks down the halls, pausing despite his guard-usher when he sees a scuffle in one of the halls locked away from him by bars. There’s a blond in the middle; he’s swearing up a storm and threatening that he’ll attack if the assailants get closer.

They’re laughing at him, swarming around him like bees to honey.

Bucky doesn’t know why he can’t walk away. He’s transfixed, watching the blond like he’s a caged animal. His face is sweet and Bucky wonders what such a sweet face did to get himself thrown into one of the temporary holding cells.

The guard bangs on the bars, screaming at them to knock it off.

The assailants look over, backing up but the blond doesn’t relax. He looks to Bucky, desperation and fear in those eyes. And Bucky– Bucky steps toward the bars and wraps his fingers around them, his mouth dropping open. That face, so scared, so sweet and maybe…

_‘So innocent.’_

“Mr. Barnes,” the guard says, jarring Bucky from his thoughts.

Bucky turns, sniffing and following the guard down the hallway toward the exit. “You know about that blond?”

“Sure. He’s big news right now,” the guard replies casually. He pauses, clearly prepping for sharing the story.

Bucky stops too, leaning against the cylinder block walls. He crosses his arms over his neatly pressed suit, feeling the silk of his blue tie resting atop his white button down.

“He bashed some guy’s face in at a bar. Snapped another’s neck and sent two into ICU. Claims he was protecting some chick but she won’t come forward about it. Says the one of the deceased was her boyfriend.”

“Bashed?”

“You should see the photos in evidence,” the guard says, clicking his tongue. “Face is unrecognizable.”

Bucky’s heart stills, a cold clutching against his fingers like a child looking for security. He swallows roughly, thinking back on that sweet face. “But he looks so–”

“Nice? Yeah. He’s a nice guy. That’s the problem. He’s refusing counsel but he’s also refusing to talk till the girl comes forward to corroborate his story. Prosecutor keeps throwing him back into the holding cell in hopes it’ll scare him.”

“She can’t do that,” Bucky bites back, his brow heavy against his eyes. “He’s charged right? So he goes into a real cell. Gets a bail hearing.”

“Oh they already did that. Boy’s not getting bail. His silence pissed the judge off.”

Bucky bites his lip, shaking his head. He’s not sure he hates anything more than abuse of the system. Without an attorney to shield this guy, he’s opened himself to a swarm of ruthless bloodsuckers and they’ll suck him dry till he’s withered and turning to dust.

“Is there gonna be a discovery period? He hasn’t pled anything right?”

“Nope. Stays silent. They keep threatening him with life in prison and he still keeps quiet.”

“Fuck,” Bucky hisses under his breath. He’s shoving his hands into his pockets, feeling his ID card and some change. “I need to represent him.” Under the Rules of Criminal Procedure, a refusal to enter a plea automatically defaults to a not guilty, but that doesn’t stop the prosecution from threatening for an amended plea.

“He’s refusing counsel, Barnes,” the guard reminds.

“Let me talk to him. Please.”

“Why? He’s guilty. There’s no way around it. He killed two guys and two more could be on their way out too.”

“Because I’ve got a feeling,” Bucky defends, his gray eyes darkening in defiance. There’s a story here. If the blond is refusing to talk then he’s either guilty as charged or there’s more to this than meets the eye and Bucky’s always been a sucker for doe eyes and broad chests. There was so much fear in those eyes. The kind of fear that creeps into your bedroom at night and coils around your ankles and _yanks_. Murderers don’t wear that kind of fear on their faces. They relish the kill. Bucky’s a good judge of character and has always prided himself on reading people almost effortlessly. He’s got a feeling about this blond that there’s more here and he’s going to pry with a fucking crowbar if he has to for it to all come spilling out.

He’s going to pretend he’s not violating one of the Model Rules of Professional Conduct about solicitation of services…

“Look, I ain’t guaranteeing nothin’,” the guard says, holding up his hands. “But I’ll try.”

“Put us in a private room.”

“Okay, okay,” the guard says, ushering Bucky back into the hall he’d just come from and down to a private interviewing room.

Bucky looks up to see a camera, wincing at it. “Turn that off. If he accepts me as counsel, he’s invoking the attorney-client-privilege.”

“He’s gotta initiate that,” the guard answers.

“He’ll initiate it. Just turn that shit off.”

“Okay. I’ll be back with ‘im.”

Bucky sits at the table, staring up at the camera until he sees the little green light go off. He sighs, a bit of relief slipping down his spine. He pulls out a notebook and his card. Flicking the off-white little card, he looks up when he hears the door creak to reveal the guard again with the blond.

The blond’s got a bruising eye and his knuckles are all busted up.

Bucky stands up, his mouth dropping open.

“They got into a little scuffle after we left,” the guard explains. “This may be your lucky day, Rogers. Barnes is the best damn attorney this side of the country.”

“I told you!” Rogers exclaims, looking visibly angry with shaking limbs and a quivering lip. He’s a caged lion, too afraid to pounce but strong enough he can’t hide his ferocity. Bucky licks his lips, not displeased with such a powerful body exuding such restraint. “I don’t want counsel.”

“Hear me out,” Bucky says, offering out his hand to shake. “I’m Bucky Barnes.”

“ _Bucky_?” the blond jokes out, an incredulous look upon his features.

Bucky smiles sheepishly, shrugging. “Yeah. Call me a sucker for cheesy marketing.”

“So it’s not your real name?”

Bucky notices Rogers sits down and doesn’t shake his hand. Bucky follows suit. This guy’s desperate to maintain some sense of pride– some strength and courage but Bucky’s always liked tearing people down– releasing their inhibitions. He sniffs again, his nose going cold in the chilly room.

“So your name?” Bucky asks.

“Oh,” the blond says, his face going smooth and apologetic. He licks his lips before replying. “Steve Rogers.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Bucky states smoothly. “Wanna tell me your story?”

“No.”

Bucky’s heart nearly stumbles in his chest, rolling around in a disoriented stupor. “You realize they’re gunning for your entire life in here right?”

“Yep,” Steve answers, trying his best to look proud and defiant, but there’s a slight twitch to his red lips– a wincing of the eye. This guy’s terrified. Fear’s got him by the balls and it’s yanking hard.

“Look,” Bucky sighs, leaning forward. He presses his palms to the table. “The prosecution is gonna abuse you for not taking counsel. You need me. If you wanna plead guilty and go down some self-inflicted death row that’s fine, but I’m not gonna let them string you up like a fucking slab of ham and shove our justice system out the damn door.”

Steve’s brow pulls together, like a lost puppy finally finding his owner. His lips twitch, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat when he swallows. “I– I don’t wanna die in here.”

Those words penetrate into Bucky, send him reeling back and shuddering with the small admission of a man with nothing left to lose. “Then let me help you. Okay?”

“O-okay,” Steve whispers, looking to the table. His fingers are tremoring slightly. “What– um– what happens now?”

“You tell me your side. I take notes and I ask you to invoke your attorney-client privilege.”

“You’re talking to me already?”

“It doesn’t work like that. You gotta invoke it.”

“Okay. I uh– um. I invoke it?”

Bucky settles into his seat, breathing a bit more with ease. “Okay. Start at square one. Tell me everything and if you hold something back, all you’re doing is hurting your case. I gotta know everything.”

“I don’t want you to save me,” Steve mumbles, staring at a corner in the room.

Bucky can’t hide the hitch in his breath. He notices how Steve tenses from the sound but the man doesn’t look over. “What?”

“I just want you to make sure they don’t– I don’t know. I can’t stay in that holding cell.”

Bucky nods, swallowing thickly. His jaw’s tightening and relaxing, over and over as his mind’s reeling from the short few moments he’s been with this man. This man– huge, hulking and with a presence that would bring the world to his knees. But he’s kind. He’s delicate like a fucking dandelion with no claws and trembling so much he might break.

“Steve,” Bucky rasps, suddenly weak of voice. “Let me help you.”

“Why?” Steve asks, finally looking at Bucky with watery blue eyes. Eyes so blue Bucky’s half contemplating they’re contacts. “I killed people. I–” He whimpers, letting a wrecked sob escape those trembling lips as he folds onto the table, pressing his forehead against it. “I did this. I _did_ this. I deserve this.”

Bucky sucks in his lips, watching this man fall to pieces, like a chess board clattering to the floor. You could set it all back up again but it’d never be just as you left off from it. He takes in a deep breath, mulling over what to say.

“Why’d you kill them?”

“They were hurting her,” Steve answers softly, his voice trembling as much as his shoulders. He isn’t looking up. His voice echoing off the contours of his arms as he buries his face into them against the table. “She was crying.”

Bucky nods, tilting his head to the side. “So you were trying to protect someone.”

“I didn’t know her,” Steve continues. “But she was cryin’ and they were laughin’ and I couldn’t– I always stick my dumb nose where it don’t belong.”

Bucky runs his fingers through his ruffled locks, feeling the sticky gel he’d casually tossed in this morning. “What happened?”

“Tried to stop it. Tried talking but they didn’t wanna. Started beatin’ me up. Holdin’ her down and–” A choked sob permeates the room.

Bucky grabs at his heart in response. He already knows what was happening.

“Then what?”

“I saw red. Got so pissed I slung the two guys off me and knocked their heads together. I heard…I heard the crack but– I just couldn’t stop. I was so angry. She was screaming for help and _no one_ was answering.” His voice is getting stronger now, more rounded out and rugged. Bucky can’t help but feel compelled to listen. This man could tell the world to jump and it’d ask how high.

“I pulled the first guy off– her um. Her boyfriend. We fought and I don’t know what happened but the next thing I know, I’m bashing his face into the cement, over and over. I see blood. I know he’s dead but I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop. I did this. I killed them.”

Bucky coughs awkwardly, clearing his throat. He heard about this case on the news. Licking his lips, Bucky prepares what to say. This part is always so crucial. So specific and central that it is quite frankly, the entire point of hiring an attorney.

“You wanna plead guilty? Or do you want me to try to get the charges lowered?”

Steve’s got his chin dipped against his chest. He’s sniffing and Bucky can see the tears that slip slowly from his eyes like little glaciers lazing down a mountain.

“Steve–”

“I heard you. I can’t afford you.”

“I’m doin’ this pro bono. You don’t owe me shit.”

Steve looks up, a shock of concern darting across his face.

Bucky shrugs. “I’m pretty frank. How we pleading, Stevie.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve deflects, but his voice is gentle.

Bucky nods, pressing his lips together, licking at them once more. He won’t admit it aloud, but part of him is worried he took this case because Steve’s a pretty face. He’s a bear in a too-small cage and sure, he needs help. But Bucky’s looking down those orange drags he’s got on and seeing the hint of a tattoo across the collarbone. He’s seeing a broad chest and arms that the prosecutor is going to make out to be the arms of a ruthless killer. Prosecutors always go for the kill themselves. They have to win. People often look down on defense attorneys but Bucky’s never met an unkind one. He’s met countless snide, rude and terrible prosecutors. The need to win outweighs the need to find justice.

Bucky just wants justice. Yes, Steve killed people. Yes, he deserves some form of punishment. But his whole life in prison? Over protecting someone?

“Okay,” Bucky says when Steve doesn’t seem like he’ll given an answer. “You don’t wanna tell me, that’s fine. I’m goin’ home to brush up on everything the police have on your case. If you don’t tell me how you wanna plead by tomorrow, then I’m pleadin’ for you.”

“Guilty as charged?” Steve spits back.

“No. Self defense. You’re the one who wants to belly up.”

“But I killed them!” Steve shouts, a flash of what this man could be lighting up his face, igniting his pupils and broadening his shoulders.

Bucky pushes his chair back, his mouth dropping open in surprise. “Sure. You killed them. But does your whole life in prison do anything for them?”

Steve bites his lip, looking down at his hands. “It’s what’s right.”

Bucky licks the corner of his lips, watching this hulking mass make himself so small and timid. Bucky presses his tailbone into the chair till it hurts as a reminder not to think too much on how he’s such a _sucker_ for big men with soft hearts. “No. What you did was right. It’s not good and it’s not okay in the eyes of the law. But it’s what’s right. They were gonna hurt that girl and you were the only one willing to do something about it. If we start killing off our heroes, all we’re gonna have left is villains.” Bucky stands up, pushing his chair in carefully and going to rasp on the door.

It opens a second later and he looks over his shoulder one last time. “Do yourself a favor and start believing in yourself Steve. I just met you– and I already do.”

* * *

MSNBC _@MSNBC_ – 12h

BREAKING: Steven Rogers hires famed defense attorney, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. [on.msnbc.com/1YmkkPk](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tweet4.jpg_zpsvnvfxyvp.png)

Jen Walters _@JenWaltersAAL_ – 3min  
See you in court [@BuckyBBarnes](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tweet5.jpg_zpsqbspqube.png)

Turns out, Steve’s big news. Bucky can’t find a single news channel that’s not discussing what a rabid dog he is. Bucky’s not sure how prison photos end up making people look crazy and murderous, but Steve looks like your general grade A serial killer with purple bags under his dull eyes, hollow cheeks and pale lips. Bucky almost wants them to reshoot the damn thing because he knows this guy’s pretty.

And that’s the problem. He’s pretty. Bucky’s twirling his pen in his hand, grinding his teeth together so loudly it’s giving him a headache. He’s never represented an overtly pretty person before. He’s represented good-looking people but not– _pretty_.

Steve’s pretty. He’s got that patriotic jawline, good ol’ boy smile and that All-American body. His heart’s made of honey and mush and Bucky’s pretty sure he’s a blusher.

Groaning, Bucky leans forward, snatching the remote to the TV and turning that bullshit off. Steve’s Public Enemy Number 1 and Bucky’s got to work on a motion for a bail appeal. He stands up, rubbing his chilly fingers over his face. “Okay pot of coffee– looks like it’s you and me all night.”

As the coffee’s brewing, Bucky does his research. He checks Steve’s background, finds his social media and what he finds– It’s upsetting. Bucky’s looking through his profile pictures on Facebook (the dope didn’t bother putting his profile on private). His pictures are modest and Bucky notices the lack of selfies. But that’s not what’s upsetting. It’s the comments. One after the other, people who Bucky assumes were Steve’s friends are commenting. They’re shouting and cursing the day Rogers was born. They’re hoping he gets beaten to death in prison, just like he’d beaten those men. They’re throwing rape around like it’s something to joke about and some are asking him to kill himself.

Bucky cringes, closing out the web browser. It’s usually expected but tonight it’s hitting Bucky harder. He needs time to really review Steve’s case but it never hurts to look into who his clients are as people. Steve’s got a lot of pictures where he’s tagged by others. They’re not too exciting. Friends throwing arms around each other’s shoulders and he’s got a few pictures of some girls kissing his face. Bucky smiles, tracing his thumb over his lips as he stares at those pictures. Steve _is_ a blusher.

The guy doesn’t post anything radical or heavily political on his Facebook and he seems to honestly seldom use it, but it’s there. Bucky wonders if he uses Twitter or Instagram instead but right now Bucky can’t go playing professional stalker. Sighing, he tears his gaze from a picture of Steve at a pool party (Steve has a damn shirt on. Bucky almost wants to scream).

He picks up the manila folder and opens it up, wincing at the brutality he’s faced with. The picture of the woman’s boyfriend is unrecognizable. His brains and blood are smeared against the cement. Bucky clicks his tongue, flipping through the evidentiary photos. He needs to already start gearing up for a discovery motion. He needs as much evidence for Steve as the prosecution has _against_ him. Witnesses, experts, character testimony. Bucky needs it all. This isn’t about whether or not Steve is guilty. He is guilty. But it’s about whether or not justice is equal to the crime. Right now, a life sentence for a guy who’s never even gotten a parking ticket grinds Bucky’s gears all kind of wrong. And he was protecting that girl!

Bucky flicks back to the page with her name on it. Gwen Stacy. If Bucky can’t get Gwen to corroborate Steve’s story, most of Steve’s defense falls through and he’s still looking at a life sentence. Granted, there’s the appellate level but Bucky doesn’t want to throw this guy through the wringer that long. He’s already looking at a six month litigation as it stands.

Bucky heaves himself up, adjusting his pants and walking over to the coffee. It’s going to be a long night.

* * *

 

 _Are We All Susceptible to Crimes of Passion?_ _  
_ _Does murder lurk in every heart?_

_Stanton E. Samenow Ph.D_

_Posted Aug 19, 2014 – The August 3, 2014 edition of  The Washington Post  contains in its arts section an article about “murderous muses” depicted by choreographers. Agnes de Mille in the ballet of “Fall River Legend” relates the story of Lizzy Borden, a quiet, unmarried daughter who in 1892 murdered her[ parents ](https://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/parenting) . Sarah Kaufman, the author of the article, writes, “De Mille capitalized on what draws us to crimes of passion, the poignancy and surprise of them. There but for the grace of not having a murderous weapon handy go the rest of us.” Kaufman writes, “Murderous  [ rage ](https://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/anger) can so easily, so unexpectedly, erupt from an ordinary heart.”_

_The idea in the Post article is that, given the proper circumstances and a weapon at hand, any of us is capable of committing a so-called “[ crime  ](https://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/law-and-crime) of passion.” From time to time, we learn about the unassuming, well-reputed individual who suddenly grabs a kitchen knife and slaughters his spouse, or the husband who discovers his adulterous spouse in bed with her paramour and shoots both. The “crime of passion” is a misconception. Of course, crimes occur that are not premeditated or planned in advance. And yes, it would be understandable to become enraged upon discovering that one’s spouse had been unfaithful. However, most people do not react to frustration, betrayal, disappointment, and powerful threats to their [ self-image ](https://www.psychologytoday.com/basics/identity)  by committing murder. The person who commits a “crime of passion” has at least in his thinking  resorted to extreme measures in response to other disturbing, threatening situations._

_Psychology Today[ Read More ](https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/inside-the-criminal-mind/201408/are-we-all-susceptible-crimes-passion)_

Bucky returns to the prison the following day. He’s got his thick manila folder with names he thinks are Steve’s friends, some cases similar to Steve’s, all the evidence the prosecution has on him and general notes.

He comes up to the window, smiling at Sam before she just rings him through the door. He’s in, looking at the holding cell and still seeing Steve in there. “I thought you can’t hold him in there anymore. He was denied bail.”

The guard, a different one from yesterday just shrugs. “I don’t make the rules, pal.”

“I’m here to see him. I’m his damn attorney and you _have_ to find him a cell while we wait his appeal.”

The guard huffs, banging his baton on the cell and shouting for Rogers.

Steve slinks through the group in the cell. Bucky cringes at the way some of these guys look at Steve. One guy even whistles at him like some low class construction working pig would a chick on the streets.

Steve slinks out and the guard claps him in handcuffs.

Bucky licks his lips, heat swelling in the pit of his stomach at how easy Steve submits to the cuffs.

“Mornin’,” Bucky says lazily.

Steve just looks at him with those big, sad puppy eyes.

“Want any coffee?” Bucky asks as they start walking toward one of the private screening rooms.

“No.”

“You eat today?”

“No.”

“Christ, Rogers,” Bucky grumbles, shooting him an aggravated look. “You’re already on trial for murder. You think you can lay off the self-inflicted punishment?”

Steve just looks at him with a somber glance, weak and full of acceptance for what he’s done. “I deserve a lot worse.”

Those words. That’s exactly the kind of thing Bucky _doesn’t_ need to hear. It throws vivid pictures into his head like paint exploding on a wall. He swallows, imagining what Steve would look like in his playroom, tied into one of his various scenes he’s got set up. Usually, Bucky doesn’t think about clients and his personal life together. Bucky’s a bit of a… well. He’s into BDSM. But he’s never crossed that line with clients before. He’s got plenty of sub friends who ask him for help and he gives it to them, nice, hard, and unrelenting. Steve’s got ‘sub’ written all over his face despite how thick his thighs are. Steve’s begging for punishment and doesn’t know how to adequately get it because, at least from where Bucky’s sitting, the guy’s probably never explored anything sexually exciting outside of doggy style.

_‘Jesus Christ, fucking stop it you fucktard.’_

They sit at the table, Bucky pulling out his files and arranging everything atop it. “You gave your plea any thought?” He doesn’t look up, still arranging the papers.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

When Bucky doesn’t hear an answer, he looks up at Steve, watching the man fidget on his seat. Bucky half wonders if someone touched Steve inappropriately while he’s been away but he knows not to ask. He’d like to think if something that drastic happened, the guards or Steve would tell him. He’s got to get this guy into a solo cell. “Steve? Answer please.”

“I don’t wanna die in here,” Steve responds meekly, his dark lashes slipping over his eyes to block any fear or trepidation Bucky knows is there.

“So we say not guilty and it’s self defense?” Bucky suggests, breathing in through his nose evenly. He can’t help looking at how the shadows cast against Steve’s throat, accenting his jawline.

“Is it possible? I’ve– But I’ve confessed to you. I didn’t. People saw me. So– how’s that possible?” Steve asks, hope rounding his eyes and making him so much younger than his thirty years. “I mean– um. What’ll happen?”

Bucky smirks, picking up one of his notes. “First, we do your bail appeal. Second, I move for an extension on discovery. Prosecution’s gobbled up most of the evidence and I need time to look through it myself. We need witnesses and experts. Time to gather up a proper defense. And with all that, yes. It’s possible. But you gotta stop punishing yourself. Stop showing the world you did it and start explain why you saved someone instead.”

Steve blushes softly and Bucky nearly groans as the rosy dusting settles against those taut cheeks. “O-okay.”

“Okay, I’ve got your bail appeal set for Friday. In the meantime, I’ll get you a solo cell. And Steve? Tell me if anything happens in that holding cell. If people beat you up or anything–”

“That’s all it’s been,” Steve answers quickly. “No one’s– They make jokes but, um, no one’s actually…” He shrugs, his face reddening further. Bucky licks his lips slowly, watching the red in Steve’s cheeks travel through his face and down his throat.

“So step one. Your friends. We need some character evidence if that’s okay. I think it’d help a jury sway your favor. But if we open that door, the prosecution can also go after character testimony. I’ve got a list of people here that I think would look good on a stand, but I need you to verify how well you know them.”

“Look good on a stand?” Steve asks, his pink tongue flicking out the corner of his mouth.

Bucky tilts his head to the side, offering a soft smirk. “Juries respond better to credible, attractive people. They hold their attention.”

Steve furrows his brow but Bucky disregards it.

“Okay so, Peggy Carter, Sharon Carter, Sam Wilson, any of these people close to you?”

“All of them.”

“Peggy and Sharon. They related?”

“Yes. Cousins.”

“Okay.” Bucky jots a few notes down about the cousins and proceeds to his next question. “Who is your best friend?”

“Sam Wilson.”

“Female best friend,” Bucky continues.

“Peg.”

“What’re Peggy and Sharon to you?”

“Complicated,” Steve sighs out, sliding down in his chair. “Is that coffee offer still on?”

Bucky looks up, smirking before standing up and knocking on the door. Once the guard opens it, Bucky murmurs about getting some coffee in here and then he goes back to the table. “Explain complicated, please.”

“I…” Steve’s getting redder than a tomato and Bucky’s 100% sure this man blushes all over his body. He’d love to trace his fingers against that skin and watch the red lines rise like a sunset against supple skin.

_‘Stop it…’_

“I’ve been kind of…off and on dating them both.”

Bucky’s brows raise half way up into his hairline. “Well hello. And here I pegged you for vanilla.”

Steve bites his bottom lip, dipping his chin overtly adorably, that blush still lingering on his face. “N-not vanilla.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky asks. It’s not the right question. He should be sticking to the matter at hand– getting Steve’s case going, but Bucky’s selfish. “Is there anything that could depict you as more of a monster than the media’s already doing?”

Steve shakes his head, pursing his lips. “N-no. I don’t think so. I mean, yeah they’re cousins but they don’t like, um, touch each other and we’re not exclusive so. It’s totally okay.”

“You don’t tie them up in your basement and fuck them do you?” Bucky inquires with the utmost serious expression on his face. It’s ironic. Considering that’s exactly what Bucky does in his free time when his friend Clint comes around asking for a good flogging.

Steve’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping into the littlest ‘o.’ “No. I mean, well. I’m usually the one getting tied up.”

Bucky can’t hide the flash of surprise atop his features. His spine snaps straight up and he chokes on his saliva.

Steve dips his chin like he’s ashamed.

“That’s…No one’s gonna use that against you, Steve,” Bucky says quietly, desperately trying to regain composure. Of course he’s lying. They would certainly use this against Steve if they caught wind of his sexual preferences. Unfortunately though, that’s not what springs to the front of Bucky’s mind. Out of every client he’s ever had, out of all his life, out of every ‘crazy random happenstance,’ this one is the absolute best and simultaneously the absolute worst.

He can’t have Steve. Steve’s his client and what’s the one thing professors tell you in law school before you take the MPRE?

Don’t. Sleep. With. Your. Client.

Bucky’s thankful the guard brings them in coffee. He takes his sweet time, tearing at the sugar packets and dumping them in one by one. Steve just takes his black, watching Bucky silently. Bucky can feel those curious eyes practically on his skin. He can feel every blink of Steve’s soft eyelashes and smell the coffee on his breath with every sigh.

Bucky’s drowning. There’s a bag over his head and he’s drowning in panic and morbid curiosity. Out of every client Bucky’s ever represented, not once has he ever thought he’d find one in his lifestyle. Not that he ever thought about it. It never crossed his mind in the first place. They are clients and Bucky is the attorney. There are clear cut rules and Bucky knows plenty of attorneys who were disbarred for ethical failures such as sleeping with a client.

He takes a sip of his coffee, burning his tongue and coughing.

Steve’s patiently watching him, like the good little sub Bucky’s now absolutely sure he is. It does nothing for the heat in Bucky’s stomach. He wants this man. He wants to be the punishment Steve’s so desperate for. He wants to break him and build him right back up to face the media, the jury and judge. It’s all simple attraction. Steve’s hot. Steve’s exuding that desperate need to feel punishment and Bucky of course is all too eager to deliver. It’s just an attraction and Bucky wishes to God he could set it aside and put it in a box for another day.

Wouldn’t that be the scandal though? Attorney and client caught red handed with nipple clamps and butt plugs? Bucky’s never even thought of that– shoving a plug up a client’s ass and watching him take the stand at a trial.

The shiver that cascades down Bucky’s spine causes him to moan, but he’s quick enough to correct the mistake. “Good coffee.”

“Tastes burnt.”

“Good sugar,” Bucky teases.

Steve offers an unsure smile, still fidgeting in his seat.

“So you let them tie you up? Together or…?”

“Is this relative to my case, sir?”

The muscles in Bucky’s legs clench at the formality. He curls his toes in his dress shoes, feeling the knuckles crack and strain from the intensity. “N-no. I guess not.”

Steve looks to the photos on the table, bringing up his handcuffed hands and grabbing them. “I really did a number on them.”

“And I need to show the jury why it was reasonable.”

“They were gonna rape her,” Steve explains, still staring at the pictures. Bucky can’t stop staring at the handcuffs. “Has she said anything?”

Bucky scrunches up his face, shaking his head from side to side. “Not yet. But I’m gonna talk to her. Though I’ve heard she’s making some rounds with some news stations, so we’ll see how that goes.”

“Are you serious?”

“You’re hot news apparently,” Bucky sings, leaning back in the chair. “You should see the hashtags on twitter.”

“Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not.” Bucky’s dive into social media led him to all kinds of things he didn’t think would ever occur, including the vast hate he was getting on his twitter account, but as the saying goes: haters make you famous. Steve’s a high profile client and regardless of Bucky’s pro bono representation or not, he’s still getting a lot of notice for this case and he hasn’t even been on it for longer than forty-eight hours.

“So, you’re gonna track down my friends and get them to testify for me?”

“Yep,” Bucky answers, lightly tugging the pictures of the bludgeoning back to the folder and away from Steve. He can’t stomach seeing the pain and remorse etched so heavily into the crinkles of Steve’s eyes. “Were any of them with you at the bar?”

“Yeah, Sam. He was inside.” Steve deflates. “In all my life, I never thought this would happen to me.” He sighs, rubbing his fingers roughly against his face, reddening his features.

“Yeah,” Bucky attempts, feeling his voice die before it has a chance to live. He’s never imagined what it’s like to be on the other end. Steve’s a scared lion in a cage too small but he’s just like the Cowardly Lion in Oz. He’s all size and no bite. No matter what happens, prison will kill him. He’s too good.

“I’ll see you in court,” Bucky abruptly says, standing up and swiping the folder into his arms.

“You’re leaving?” Steve gasps, his eyes alit with anxious tension.

Bucky purses his lips, blinking a few times. “We don’t have much else to discuss right now.”

“We can talk about my friends. Or– or about me? I dunno. Please don’t leave yet.”

Bucky’s heart tugs, like it’s trying its best to trudge up to this man and wrap itself around him. He plops back into the seat, wincing when his tailbone hits the hard surface too forcefully. “Okay. Let’s talk about you.”

“Whaddya wanna know?”

“College?”

“NYU. Art.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah, I draw. Wanted to do traditional animation.” He looks to Bucky’s folder, nibbling on his bottom lip.

Bucky stares, before looking down at the folder and then to the pen in his jacket. He pulls out a piece of paper with some scribbled notes on it and the pen. “Think you can draw with your hands cuffed?”

“They’re not tied together. I could draw you?”

Bucky smiles nodding softly. “Sure thing.”

Steve takes the pen and paper, looking up and down at Bucky before staring at the page. At first, it’s all blobs and weird lines but Bucky starts seeing the shape of a head and then Steve goes in for the eyes.

“So art. Saw you’re a vet too.”

“How’d you find that out?” Steve asks, looking to the paper. He’s filling in one of Bucky’s pupils.

“Facebook.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve laughs, looking up at Bucky again, analyzing him more intently than Bucky’s usually comfortable with.

Bucky coughs, looking away. “Doesn’t help your case much. Being a vet.”

“Why would it? America loves their troops but hates their vets.” He’s drawing again, shading around the cheek bones and the bridge of the nose. Bucky’s not even sure how he can do that with a cheap pen from the dollar store.

“You religious?” Bucky enquires, pulling out a piece of paper to jot down anything he thinks may help Steve’s case. He also needs to follow up with Sam and get him on the witness stand when the trial starts.

“Catholic,” Steve answers automatically. He’s licking at his bottom lip– side to side, over and over. It’s distracting Bucky, making the room grow tepid from its usual chill. “You?”

“Never had much faith in a God that doesn’t seem to have much faith in me.”

“Fair enough,” Steve lilts, moving the pen quickly, almost like magic as he’s filling out Bucky’s lips on the page.

“Did you have a job? Before all this?”

Steve sniffs, taking his time to answer as he’s shading out Bucky’s chin and neck. “Yup. Worked at my school’s art department for the Chair. Pretty sure I’m fired.”

“Probably,” Bucky smiles, tilting his chin up to get a better look at Steve’s drawing. “You’re damn good.”

“My mom used’ta say it’s cause I got bored easily. I’d go into my head and start drawing stuff.”

“You get bored easily?”

“Maybe. I can’t focus on stuff too long. I’m not ADD or nothin’, but I just have a lot goin’ through my head.”

Bucky nods. He understands that. What that really correlates to him, is that Steve’s smart. He’s aware of himself, which makes this case that much harder. Steve’s a big guy with a military past. He’s smart and probably has good grades. He’s got the makings of serial killing disasters even if this is being seen as a crime of passion. He still brutally murdered two men. And Bucky wouldn’t be surprised one bit if the other two sue for assault.

“You’re a nice guy, Steve,” Bucky blurts, unabashed and unashamed.

Steve’s head snaps up from the drawing, his mouth hanging open in astonishment. His eyes look watery, but Bucky’s not sure if that’s the dim lighting in the room catching on those blue hues or if he’s in fact that big of a softie. “Thanks. I– um. I try.”

Bucky smiles, but no happiness lights his eyes. He’s sad. Steve’s as gentle as they come with a heart too big for his body. He fucked up. He fucked up bad, but he’s not the ruthless killer the media’s stringing him up to be. He’s not a devil and he’s certainly not a repetitive criminal. As much as it pains Bucky to think it– this may have been a terrible idea, taking Steve’s case.

Bucky’s not even known him for forty-eight hours and he’s already thinking Steve’s a nice guy.

Shit.

* * *

 

_It Started with Rogers: A Veteran Epidemic_

By Min-Na Chen

_With Steven Rogers’ bail rehearing occurring in less than several hours, all of New York is waiting in anticipation to know whether or not it’ll have a killer on its streets. Steven Rogers– age 30, was studying traditional art and animation at New York University prior to his brutal murders of Eddie Brock (25) and Harry Osbourne (24). Brock was a running back for NYU and promising leader of his community. He was studying politics and photography before Rogers cut his life short in a burst of cruel passion. Osbourne was a promising future scientist, looking to take over his father’s company Oscorp before his early demise. Rogers has been kept locked away in state prison and his attorney James ‘Bucky’ Barnes has yet to come forward with a statement, but does this silence proclaim an admission of guilt? Rogers has a military background, graduating high school and immediately enlisting in the Army before serving three tours in Iraq. He has no drug or alcohol history but his size and training lead us to believe him capable of murderous intent. No statement has been given why Rogers attacked these men and injured two others, but we can look at the facts._

_The University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill School of Medicine conducted a study of small pool of 1,388 veterans and found that 23% of them with PTSD and high irritability were arrested for criminal offenses. 9% without combat trauma had been arrested since their combat deployment. 223,000 veterans are currently in prison and 17,000 active-duty soldiers are in military detention or awaiting judicial proceedings according to the Army. Guy Garant, a prosecutor in Philadelphia anticipates “an epidemic” of veterans in trouble with the law. Steven Rogers saw three tours in Iraq, climbing through the ranks to the role of Captain before returning to civilian life. While his chest may be decorated for his past services to America, his behavior is hardly excused. Veterans experience irritability at a higher rate than civilians according to the American Psychology Association. Rogers isn’t the only veteran capable of murder and the programs available to veterans are limited. With the bail rehearing today, New York courts will set a dangerous precedent if they think allowing a veteran, capable of murder, back onto the streets is safe. Veterans have little to no outreach programs for anger management and PTSD. It’s too late for Rogers, but what about our other veterans? Are we going to wait for this veteran epidemic to escalate to the degree of school shootings before we do something about it?_

-Min-Na Chen, _It Started with Rogers: A Veteran Epidemic_ , New York Times, (2015).

They rise when the judge takes the bench, motioning for everyone to be seated. He ruffles some papers before him and places his glasses over his nose. “Let it be known, the court addresses the matter of Steven Grant Rogers’ denied bail on the 21st of November, 2015. Counselors, please rise.”

“Good morning, Your Honor,” Bucky begins, looking over to the prosecution briefly watching Jen Walters smirk at him, an unspoken challenge. She’s one of the best the prosecution office has and she knows it. “My client wishes to review his denied bail on grounds of lack of representation and formally recognize a plea– considering he never gave one.”

“Which was his choice,” Jen adds. “Your Honor, this man is a danger to society and should remain behind bars.”

“Bars by which she means a holding cell. Rogers was denied a private or mated cell by the prosecution.”

“Is that so?” the judge asks, looking over to Jen, a brow raised.

“Your Honor, the prison system is crowded. This is New York. There simply wasn’t room.”

“Actually, Your Honor, I have evidence here with me that solitary confinement and three mated cells were available for Rogers immediate use after being charged.”

“Objection, relevance? This isn’t about where Rogers should sleep but whether or not he should have bail.”

“Sustained,” the judge answers easily.

Bucky’s knees jerk in annoyance for a moment. He grinds his teeth together, watching Jen’s smug face taunt him like a child hovering a finger in his face, annoying but not actually _doing_ anything.

“My client has no previous record, his service record is spotless and there’s no probable cause to deny him bail. Not to mention he never _actually_ pled one way or another at his preliminary. It’s almost Thanksgiving. Let him go home to his family.”

The judge looks over to Jen, raising his brow once more. “And what do you have to say to that?”

“A decorated service history yes, but that makes him even more of a risk. He’s a trained veteran, capable of great harm if enraged. The State only asks to protect the people.”

“Need I remind you, Your Honor, he’s innocent until proven guilty? And for that matter, he pleads not guilty and self defense.”

Bucky hears the clicks of cameras behind him but he keeps his eyes trained to the front of the room.

“We had that preliminary hearing already, Barnes,” Jen inputs. “I know you weren’t there because your client refused counsel. There’s enough evidence for probable cause that he did, in fact, do what half of that tavern saw him do.”

Bucky smirks, but the gesture is anything but kind. He’s glaring malicious intent and all the snark and hate he can muster. If she’s going to play dirty, then he’s going to have to follow suit.

Bucky takes a breath, casually shrugging while saying, “And need I remind you that he has a right to amend his plea. If you wanna engage in settlement–”

“Enough!” the judge exclaims. “In the spirit of the holidays, I’m setting bail at 10 million. The court recognizes the formally announced not guilty plea. Court is adjourned. Please meet with the clerk to set up the next court appearance.”

Jen waggles her brow at Bucky before picking up her things and swiftly making her way out of the courtroom.

Bucky turns to Steve, his face softening when he sees the man’s gone sheet white. “Hey,” Bucky soothes. “It’ll be okay. I’ve got this.” He doesn’t know whether he should touch Steve or not. He opts to just hover there awkwardly.

“10 million,” Steve breathes, swallowing thickly. “10 million.”

“Did you not hear me? I’ve got this.”

“You’ve got 10 million stashed away?” Steve exclaims, his gaze flicking to the prison guards coming his way.

“I work in criminal law. I’ve got people. And it’s just bond. We get most of it back once your trial’s over.”

“Most?”

“I got this. You’ve got one more night in prison and then tomorrow you’re out. Promise.”

Steve breathes out. It’s shaky and his limbs are trembling just as bad as the day Bucky met him. He grips the table, looking like he’d rather toss it at the prison guards than stand up with his shackled feet and handcuffed wrists to follow them out.

Bucky looks around the room. There’s news reporters and photographers. There’s a cluster of what looks to be law students and Jen is talking to a few of them. Probably her interns.

“Steve, you’re gonna be okay.”

Steve’s brows are pulling together. He’s licking at his lips obsessively, making them redder and redder– wetter and wetter. Bucky wants to reach out and touch those lips, feel how soft they are against his own.

_‘Shit…’_

“Steve,” Bucky coaxes. “I swear you’ll be okay.” He finally does touch him. A quick little squeeze to the shoulder.

Steve stands up, sighing heavily. His shoulders are slumped and he looks so much smaller than he really is. He nods jerkily to Bucky before about facing and following the prison guards out. The cameras click off in a violent rhythm, everyone eager to grab a picture of Steve’s face. Bucky doesn’t blame him. The guy’s a doll. If only they weren’t trying to depict him as a brutal murderer…

Bucky clicks his tongue, settling his anxious nerves that are crying out for Steve like damn flies to flame. He’s got 10 million to track down. He can’t lose focus right now. He’s got an innocent man to save.

* * *

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 5sec  
10 million bail?? Shoulda denied! Guy is NOT safe [#RottenRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tweet6.jpg_zpslycmptgo.png)

Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 2sec  
@HailHyGrant Says the guy who beat up his best friend for kissing his gf… [#RescueRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tweet7.jpg_zpszgi6ktkm.png)

Cosmopolitan @Cosmopolitan – 1hr

15 of the hottest defendants in a criminal case! #1 is Steven Grant Rogers!: [cosm.ag/0510SRgx7](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tweet8.jpg_zpsu9qak8xr.png)

Bucky lands the 10 million not even several hours later. He met up with some friends: Foggy Nelson and Matt Murdock. They’re both defense attorneys and share that pure drive to represent the innocent and wrongly charged.

Bucky has to sign over his house and car if Steve flees the States but he’s pretty sure no matter what contract got set before him, he would sign it. Steve isn’t running. Steve’s a fighter– once you get him going. At least, Bucky thinks there’s a fighter in there. With the deal in hand, Steve’s got his bail money and Bucky’s one step closer to wiping the floor with Jen’s pretty face.

He’s back at his apartment in Manhattan, looking out at the skyscrapers and all the cars that flash and glow below him. He can’t stop thinking about Steve, alone and locked away in solitary. They finally decided solitary was the best option for him. Bucky’s pretty sure it was to scare him.

He takes a sip from his tumbler, wincing at the scotch’s burn. Another night full of case file reviews and legal research to try to find out how to get Gwen Stacy to corroborate Steve’s story. She’s the key witness. She literally holds Steve’s life in her hands and yet she’s traveling to news stations and playing the mourning girlfriend.

Bucky tries to sit down and work, tries to go over ways to force Gwen to testify _for_ Steve, instead of against. But he can’t focus. His skin feels hot and his fingers are trembling. He stops an hour in and finally calls Clint. He pretends he’s offering out his services under the pretense of being concerned for Clint, but Clint knows better.

They end up doing two scenes with Bucky slicing a riding crop into the back of Clint’s knees as Clint’s coming from overstimulation from the penis pump.

* * *

 

Gwennnnn @gwenstcyy – 1hr  
Funeral for Harry and Eddie will be tomorrow.

Bucky gets Steve from the prison the following day. There’s already a line of press and protesters. They have hateful signs and are screaming at Bucky as he walks.

“Let him rot!”

“He’s a psycho!”

“You’re going to hell!”

Bucky ignores it all. His gaze is fixed on the building and the doors he knows Steve is behind– scared but relieved to put this place behind him for now. It doesn’t mean he won’t ever be back, but at least he’s got a reprieve until his sentencing. Bucky doesn’t hope it goes that way. He’s already emotionally invested and it’s not even been a solid week yet. Bucky’s usually better than this.

He doesn’t even make it to the doors before some guards are ushering Steve out in cuffs. At least he’s not in full bar attire… Bucky shakes his head. This isn’t how he’s supposed to convince America that Steve was misunderstood. His size already works against him, same with his vet record. He needs to look wounded and sympathetic– not like the monster that he’s now perfectly depicted as.

“Get those off him,” Bucky growls. “He got bail.”

The guard’s eyes linger on Steve a few seconds too long for Bucky’s liking before he’s finally taking the cuffs off and tucking them into his pocket.

“Thank you,” Bucky says, but his voice is anything but appreciative. “You okay?”

Steve bites his lower lip, his eyebrows pulling together. “That crowd for me?”

“Don’t look at ‘em,” Bucky instructs. “Just look at me, okay? I’ll get you through this.”

“Yes sir.” Steve swallows roughly but he follows closely behind Bucky along with some guards to bring up his flanks. Bucky’s now desperately trying to avoid pitching a tent in his pants.

The crowd swarms around them, shooting off questions and insults one after the other. News reporters press up to Bucky, flinging their mics in front of him.

“Mr. Barnes! Mr. Barnes– what can you tell us about the case? Is your client pleading guilty?”

Bucky ignores it.

“Did you try to kill them, Rogers?!”

“Rogers! What’s it like to bash someone’s face in?!”

Tasteless. Bucky rounds on the reporters, his eyes glaring murderous intent. “My client,” he begins, commanding the crowd to go silent. “My client just wants to go home to spend his Thanksgiving with his family. I am working diligently to provide Rogers with the best representation possible and you’re all more than welcome to camp outside the courthouse if you wish to follow our case.” With that, Bucky rolls his eyes and ushers Steve into the car.

Steve fumbles around, awkwardly bending to get into the muscle car.

Bucky glares one more time at the reporters before slipping into the driver’s seat and buckling up. He replays everything he said, making damn sure he didn’t say anything that could sway public opinion, a judge or jury. Once satisfied he kept vague, he turns to Steve.

“I hate reporters,” he announces.

Steve just smirks, staring at his feet. “Same. Never been fond of the spotlight.”

Bucky licks his lips, his gaze raking over Steve’s form. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.”

Steve blushes from the tip of his ears all the way down that neck. Bucky wants to peel that shirt down to see just how far that blush goes.

“Thank you,” Steve says after they’ve sat in silence for a few miles. “I didn’t ask you to be my lawyer, but thank you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Bucky flippantly responds. “S’what I do.”

“You didn’t have to though,” Steve urges. His shoulders are so broad that Bucky feels he’s taking up half of the damn car.

Bucky shrugs. “I like a challenge.”

Steve snorts softly, settling back in the seat.

They go quiet, Steve staring out the window and Bucky trying desperately to keep his gaze on the road. Steve’s body is flawless. He’s wearing street clothes instead of baggy prison outfits and his chest is sculpted from the classic ages. Bucky could dig his fingers into those _tits_ and fuck up into Steve’s mouth.

Bucky hits the brakes a little too roughly. Steve tenses but he doesn’t say anything. They still sit in comfortable silence, waiting for the light to change. Bucky doesn’t even know if this guy would even swing his way. There’s still the whole attorney-client-thing. Why’s he even entertaining this idea? It’s _not_ going to happen. Ever.

“Hey Bucky?”

Bucky looks over to Steve, his eyes flashing in so much hope that Steve squints at him a little funny.

“It’s green,” Steve says.

“Green?!”

“The light’s green.”

Bucky looks up, noticing that in fact, the _streetlight_ is green. His heart’s up in his throat, wishing to God _green_ was an indication Steve was all for Bucky’s dirty thoughts. Red-Yellow-Green: the standard go-to safewords and absolutely _not_ what Steve was talking about.

Steve starts laughing. It’s soft at first, just like a small bell jingling in the air but then he’s howling, grabbing his chest and tossing his head back. He looks so much like a frat boy that Bucky starts wondering if he’s got any frat boy porn stashed somewhere on his computer. He’ll need it after this car ride.

“What?” Bucky asks.

“Y-you just. Your face. I dunno! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He’s still laughing, holding onto his left pec like it’ll fall off if he lets go.

Bucky wants to know what Steve’s body feels like. He looks hard as a fucking rock but looks can be deceiving. Some of the hardest bodies crumble into the softest subs Bucky’s ever touched– bodies more like silk.

Bucky starts laughing, unsure of what else to do. They come to another stop light and Steve just starts giggling all over again.

“Rogers! If you’re gonna make fun of how I drive–”

“No!” Steve exclaims, still laughing. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. You’re just. Shit.”

“I’m shit?” Bucky quirks a brow.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me since what happened. I dunno. I’ve just got a good feeling about you.”

Bucky smiles, his gaze scanning up Steve’s thighs before looking up into those pretty eyes.

“We’re not outta the woods yet, Steve.”

“Oh I know. I’m just– I’m goin’ home. I never thought I’d see it again.”

Bucky nods, watching the light dull from Steve’s face. His cheery exterior crumbles away and Bucky sees the sadness rise once again.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen– with my family. I don’t got a dad. My ma’s always workin’ and I’ll bet people’ve been sayin’ some really nasty shit to her.”

“We can file an injunction.” Bucky presses on the brake pedal as he takes a curve.

“I’ll ask her. Well, if she’s even talkin’ to me. She didn’t accept my phone call in jail.”

“You tried to call her?” Bucky’s voice rises an octave. He feels foolish for not considering Steve has a mother or what this did to her. Cases like this don’t just change the lives of the defendant or victim. They change the lives of everyone involved, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. Everyone feels the bite of the media’s snarling fangs.

Steve doesn’t respond. He just wraps those big biceps of his around himself. Bucky’s not sure how, but Steve has an uncanny ability to make himself look so small. He wants to reach out and pull Steve into him, kiss his fucking face and tell him he’s going to do _everything_ for Steve. He’ll fight this all the way to the Supreme Court of the United States if he has to. Steve didn’t murder those men. He was _protecting_ Gwen Stacy.

* * *

 

When they arrive at Steve’s apartment, there’s a line of reporters and protestors. Someone even throws an egg at Steve’s head. Bucky gets up in the perpetrator’s face and threatens to sue for battery but Steve just grabs Bucky’s wrist and the way he looks at Bucky takes his breath away.

“Just let it go,” Steve says. His voice is soft and defeated. It’s not the kind of voice that should come out of a man who obtained the rank of Captain with the Army. But it does and Bucky accepts it.

When Bucky realizes that the reporters are just going to keep following he turns on them, teeth bared and eyes flashing with what he hopes is enough malice to send them running.

“I swear to God, if any of you disturb this man, I’ll have you in court for violation of his constitutional rights!”

They don’t walk into the apartment building with them.

They go up the few flights of stairs in silence. Steve’s face is pale and he seems to be transfixed by his feet.

Bucky hates how much he keeps checking out Steve’s ass. It’s not the kind of ass body builders get and Bucky’s quietly surprised at that– considering Steve’s size and build. It’s round and plump, like a fucking porn star and Bucky feels his mouth water. He wants to bite into those cheeks, lap at that fucking hole and taste Steve intimately.

_‘You wanna lose your license you dipshit?’_

Steve stops at a door, huffing.

“What?” Bucky asks, walking up and looking over his shoulder. There’s a notice of eviction. “You’re fuckin’ kidding me.” He takes the letter and starts reading it. “I’m suing.”

“No you’re not,” Steve sighs. “Fuck.” He runs his fingers through his hair and lets out the most adorable little whine that Bucky almost groans.

“Steve.” Bucky stares at him, his brow furrowed. “They can’t do this to you! You have rights!”

“And so do these people, Bucky!” Steve motions around at the other doors. “They’re scared of me and they’ve got a right to be!”

“You’re not gonna do this again. You were protecting someone.”

“And what if I wasn’t?! What if I really wanted to kill those guys?” Steve shouts.

Bucky steps back, looking around to make sure no one’s around. “Steve, shut the fuck up right now.”

Steve goes silent, his teeth snapping loudly together. Bucky pushes the man up against the wall, feeling muscles clench and watches as Steve’s mouth drops open– eyes hazing over.

“Don’t talk about your case. Not ever unless I say so, got it?” He’s got a finger aggressively pointed at Steve’s face. He’s too pissed that Steve may have compromised his own case to realize how _hard_ Steve’s body is trembling against his.

Steve nods.

“C’mon,” Bucky grumbles, walking away with the eviction notice pressed tightly in his palm.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“To my place.”

* * *

 

_‘Today we got the first look at Steven Rogers since his bail appeal. The thirty year old accused was seen getting into his attorney’s Chevy Camaro while surrounded by protestors. We spoke to a few in the crowd and were met with many opinions about the safety of New York. Bucky Barnes had a few short words for us as well and we’ll replay you those right after the break. I’m Shirleen Allicot and this is ABC 7, Eyewitness News.’_

-Shirleen Allicot, ABC 7 Eyewitness News, New York, New York (2015).

Bucky doesn’t have time to think about what may be littered around his apartment while Steve’s silently behind him in the elevator. Bucky’s pretty high up in the building and for some reason, they fall into that awkward elevator silence. They really haven’t spoken much since Bucky shoved Steve up against the wall and threatened him. Bucky feels bad about that. It was uncalled for but he was _terrified_ of someone listening. If the prosecution had been around– if someone heard them…

Bucky gulps. He wants to step back and slip his hand into Steve’s but that’s not the kind of relationship this is. Steve is a client and Bucky is an attorney. It can’t get much more outlined than that.

The elevator dings and they’re walking down the hall. Bucky prays he doesn’t have anything weird out. Actually, on second thought– he prays he _does_ have something weird out. Maybe Steve would be into it after a stressful adventure in the big house.

Bucky opens the door, looking around the dark apartment before flicking on the light. There’s a pillow on the floor and a pile of blankets pooled around the couch. He’s got dishes stacked up high in his kitchen sink and he’s pretty sure something smells fishy.

“You don’t clean much do you?” Steve teases.

“I’ve been busy,” Bucky responds, glaring at Steve. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I– um, I’m really thankful about this. You didn’t have– I mean–”

“Steve.” Bucky holds up a hand to silence Steve. “It’s okay.”

“I should try callin’ my ma again. I know she’s upset but I just,” he pauses, sighing heavily. Bucky watches those big shoulders sink. “I gotta know if she’s okay.”

“I’ll clean up a bit. You can use my office.”

Steve nods tightly, walking away through the French doors to Bucky’s study. Bucky’s pretty sure it’s an absolute mess in there with files, memorandum and all sorts of boring legal crap. Maybe it’ll look impressive– or sad. Bucky doesn’t really have much of a life outside of his job and the Scene. He’s got friends, but most of them are just as kinky as he is. He rarely sees them unless they’re begging on their knees for him to let his seed slide down their throats.

Bucky goes to cleaning up the kitchen, replacing the garbage bag with a fresh one and throwing the other one down the garbage chute. He tries to listen through the doors to his study but all he hears is muffled words. He grabs the lip of the sink, staring at the drain. He should be putting the dishes into the dishwasher but he can’t stop thinking about Steve. He feels guilty for the guy. He’s just an overgrown teddy bear with too big a heart. His whole life is upside down and he can’t even find a single bit of footing to stand on.

And he’s scared. He’s so scared and that’s what cuts into Bucky the most. A man that big shouldn’t wear such betrayed eyes. But it’s not the world that’s betrayed him and he knows that. It’s himself. There’s so much disappointment and anger. Steve’s bottling it up, but Bucky can see right through it. He sees how tense the man is– like he’s just ready to explode. Bucky knows a cure for that, but again, violation of attorney-client relationship and would Steve even be into that?

Steve comes back out, his cheeks are red, his eyes glossy. He looks so worn out– a soldier back from a war he can’t win.

“She okay?” Bucky asks as he starts loading the dishwasher.

“She talked to me. She said she’s not taking to any reporters but they keep comin’ round. Her job’s givin’ her some time off. Guess that’s good.”

Bucky winces.

Steve awkwardly shifts on his feet, looking around. Bucky watches him. He’s like a lost puppy in a strange place. He’s unsure where it’s safe and where it’s not.

“You can make yourself at home. The couch’s real comfy.”

Steve offers a small smile, heading for the couch.

“How are you and your mom though?” Bucky inquires.

Steve slips off his shoes and pulls his knees to his chest. He drops his forehead against his knees and sobs.

Bucky drops the plate he’s holding. It crashes to the floor and explodes into pieces. He doesn’t care. He runs over to Steve, sitting beside the man and pulling Steve back into him. Steve grabs at Bucky’s arm, crying loud. His body is shaking violently. Bucky’s heart is trying to hurdle itself out of Bucky’s chest. It’s desperately reaching for this man– this innocent man who didn’t mean any harm until he did. Life’s funny like that. One moment, you’re just a regular Joe going through the day-to-day and then you’re on trial for a murder that didn’t even take you minutes to commit.

“Steve.” Bucky turns, wrapping both his arms around Steve’s chest. The man just drops his chin, letting his arms go limp as he sobs. “She still loves you. It’s scary for her too. Her son’s on trial and people are comin’ round and sayin’ all kinds of hateful things to her.”

“I know! That’s the damn problem!” Steve wails. He tears himself out of Bucky’s arms, dropping his head into his hands. “She loves me! She said she loves me and she’s– she’s so p-proud of me!”

Bucky freezes, his mouth hanging open unintelligently. No one ever sees this side of the accused. All they see is the courtroom. They see the headshots of the accused in orange jumpsuits or pictures carefully selected to depict them as monsters. Steve’s not a monster. He’s so pure that the world just can’t accept him that way. It had to blot him somehow. It had to stain his shining light before time and space itself seared apart. He’s too good. Life always finds a way to put things back in balance and this is how it balanced out Steve.

“I’m sorry.” Steve wipes at his nose, sniffing loudly. “Christ, I’m so sorry.”

“S’okay,” Bucky whispers. “I’m here for you, Steve. Anything you need.”

Steve barks out a laugh. It’s abrasive. He wipes at his puffy eyes, sniffing again. “You do this for all your clients?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Most of my clients have families that’ll take them in.”

“My ma offered. I– I told her no.”

“I understand. You’re still welcome here.”

“Whadda we do now?” Steve asks, voice broken. “I need a tissue.”

Bucky stands to grab a napkin. It’s not a tissue, but it’s at least something. He hands it over and Steve blows into it loudly. He smiles, watching Steve’s face go a little red before settling back into its porcelain.

“We gather as much evidence as possible and prepare for trial. The prosecution is gonna come at you with a lot of deals and there may be one we entertain. Right now, we work on getting some witnesses, depositions, any evidence from the scene, eyewitnesses, the whole shebang.”

“Deals?” Steve sits back into the sofa. He turns toward Bucky but he’s so closed off. His arms are wrapped around his knees that’re so tightly pressed to his chest. He looks like a damn child and it _physically hurts_ Bucky to keep from touching him.

Bucky’s always been a sucker for men like Steve. It’s that innocence that he craves. He strives to find it in his career and he strives to find it in his life. Innocence doesn’t mean lack of sexual experience or naivety. It’s a much larger concept than that to Bucky. It’s the kind of people who strive to do good. The kinds of people who honestly believe the world is perfect with its faults and all. The people who accept their actions and seek out atonement when they’ve done wrong. People like Steve– with pure hearts and damaged souls. Bucky’s always been drawn to that kind of innocence.

“Like if you plead guilty they’ll reduce your sentence. We can’t cross them off entirely. Some deals are pretty damn good.”

“But I’ve gotta plead guilty to murder.”

“But you’ll have to plead guilty to murder.” Bucky purses his lips, watching as Steve picks at the folds in his jeans.

“I hate myself.”

“Steve–”

“I know you’re just my attorney but– I’ve had no one to talk to. I’m just, I’m just _so angry_.”

“I know.”

Steve snorts before saying, “Of course you do. You deal with murderers all the time.”

“Rapists too. Drug dealers. Pedophiles. Gang members.”

“Yeah I’ll bet we’re all the same,” Steve snaps, digging his fingers into his jeans. Bucky can see his fingers going white.

“No. You’re not even the littlest bit like them,” Bucky admits. “You’re so much better than that, Steve.”

“You’ve known me for a week.”

“I know. That’s the cool thing about being an attorney. We get to learn about our clients real fast. We’re your counsel but we’re also your best friend. Everything you say to me is protected. I won’t tell a single person. I swear.”

Steve nods tightly. He finally looks up, his brows knitted together. His eyes are red and those pretty lashes are all clumped together from his tears. He’s so pretty that Bucky stops breathing.

“When we first met, you asked if there was something that could make me into a monster.”

Bucky stays silent, his gaze just flicking up and down Steve’s body.

“I dunno if it counts but– I mean, aside from the fact that I’m into BDSM– I’m also pretty sure I’m gay.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and he literally feels his feet go cold.

“But you date women?”

“No, I lied. Well, I mean. Yeah they help me out but it’s just– we’re just friends. I don’t see them that way. I’ve tried.”

“So you’re their sub,” Bucky concludes.

Steve looks up like Bucky hit him. His blue eyes search around the room for a moment before locking with Bucky’s again.

“You know what a sub is?”

Bucky leans back, laughing. “This is awkward.”

“You’re a Dom aren’t you?” Steve asks, his eyes sparkling for the first time since Bucky met him.

Bucky nods.

Steve just smiles, his body relaxing, like ice melting to water. He breathes with an easy sigh, chewing on his bottom lip. Bucky mimics him for lack of anything to say.

“Wow.”

Bucky sucks in his lips to keep from laughing. He’s not sure if he feels awkward or if Steve feels awkward but the tension that was in the air before is gone. It’s replaced with something familiar, like they’re both standing on solid ground instead of trying to fumble with shaky mountains that threaten to crumble. He feels his feet go warm again.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Steve comments, leaning back into the couch. He drops his head to the side, letting Bucky get a nice look at the curve of his neck. “Attorneys like power.”

“I like protecting people,” Bucky corrects quickly. “People fall into shitty situations and sometimes attorneys are the only people that can save them.”

Steve flicks up his brow briefly. “Hero complexes. Got one of those too.”

“I’m not surprised,” Bucky teases. “You wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“That obvious?”

“Absolutely.” Bucky brings his feet up onto the couch. They just barely hit Steve’s thigh. He feels warm like sand on a summer’s day. He doesn’t pull back and Steve doesn’t fidget.

They sit there in silence. Bucky doesn’t know for how long. Part of him wants to use this. He hates admitting it, but having a gay defendant often can help sway liberals in his favor. It also helps with showing he’s more passive. He doesn’t say the thought process is right, but that’s just how the system sees it. Though he also fears if people know Steve is into BDSM that he’d be crucified as a pervert and any shot at playing “the gay card” would go right out the window.

He sighs, slumping back into the couch, his feet now flush against Steve’s thigh. He looks up at the ceiling, thinking about angles to spin this story. They need Gwen to corroborate. Bucky’ll get a chance to conduct a deposition with Gwen if she’s the prosecution’s witness but he’d rather find a way to sway her to his side. She _knows_ Steve did this to protect her. Which to Bucky, begs the question _why_ is she trying to put the man away who saved her life? What strings are being pulled where?

“Bucky?” Steve asks.

Bucky looks over at him, cocking a brow.

“Your feet are cold,” Steve says.

Bucky pulls his feet away, feeling his heart tremble from the loss of contact. “Sorry.”

“I can’t believe you’re a Dom. I mean, I can. But– what’re the odds?”

Bucky laughs. He tucks his feet under himself, leaning against the couch arm. He watches Steve for a moment, looking at how _relaxed_ he is. Like Bucky’s status just instantly soothes him. It’s honestly freeing that Steve knows. Bucky’s pretty sure he looks just as relaxed now.

“You’re tellin’ me. I almost shit myself when you said you liked getting tied up.”

Steve’s brows shoot up and the tips of his ears go red. “I can’t get over that you’re an attorney and you talk like that.”

“You think attorneys don’t cuss up storms? Fuck, Rogers. Haven’t you _watched_ TV?”

Steve just shrugs, wiggling his toes.

“So lemme ask you this,” Bucky begins, moving so he’s sitting right next to Steve. “What do you want me to do? As your attorney? We’ve got two days till your second arraignment. We still pleadin’ not guilty and self defense?”

Steve takes in a deep breath through his nose. He stares at the far wall, chewing on his lips. Bucky watches patiently, looking at the pink flesh of Steve’s tongue. He watches it travel along Steve’s lips. He wants to kiss this man. Everyone has a unique flavor and Bucky’s pretty damn sure this man tastes like a _man_ , musky and earthen.

“Yeah, I guess,” Steve finally answers. “It’s the truth. Yeah– I killed,” his voice cracks. He sucks in another breath and tries again. “I killed them. But they were hurtin’ her and I ain’t the type to let that happen. I fucked up but– I don’t– I’m not a monster. I was just tryin’ to do right by her.”

Bucky nods. There’s that innocence that he’s so attracted to. That desire to do good and believe the world will accept his goodness. It’s so heartbreaking when innocent people realize the world is just a dark, twisted place full of disappointment. Steve saved this girl and all it got him in the end was a ruined life, the threat of life in prison and evicted from his home.

“I’m gonna do everything I can, Steve,” Bucky promises softly. “I swear to God.”

“Thought you didn’t put much faith in a god that doesn’t have much faith in you.” He smirks, looking at Bucky from the corner of his eye.

“Clever,” Bucky comments. He leans back, appraising Steve with eyes that he probably knows are too hungry for what he sees. He catches himself though, tearing his gaze away and standing up. He walks over to the hallway closet to pull out some blankets. He sets them on the coffee table before going into his bedroom and pulling a pillow off for Steve.

“Thank you,” Steve says as he takes the pillow. “You’re doin’ so much for me. I feel bad that I don’t got any money.”

“You can pay me back by charming that jury with that face of yours. I’m in this to win, Rogers.”  He turns around, heading for the bedroom. It finally hits him how tired he is and he’s got a full day of this case tomorrow, plus a few of his other ones. He needs to meet with Jen and actually speak civilly since he’s pretty sure this case is going to move to evidentiary hearings.

“Goodnight, sir.”

Bucky pauses in his doorway, his lips parting silently. He looks at the foot of his bed for a moment before thinking of the perfect response.

“Goodnight, _Stevie_ ,” Bucky taunts, remembering the day Steve was so vehement about him using that name.

Steve doesn’t correct him this time.


	2. Motion for Injuction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky feels like he's caving under his desire for Steve while he tries to gather up evidence for the trial. Steve takes a tour of the playroom, which changes the whole game for him and Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick super duper thank you to my absolutely fantastic alpha-beta, [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/)  
> And thank you to everyone who has read, kudo'd, commented, ect ect. It means so much!!
> 
>  **Warning:** As stated in ch 1, this fic is a heavy bdsm fic. There may be kinks mentioned that you are not comfortable with. Just because a kink is mentioned, does not mean it will be implemented into the story. Kinks that are officially implemented will have tags updated. Thank you for your understanding! If you do not know what a certain type of kink is, please do not hesitate to ask me!  
> 

MSNBC @MSNBC – 1h

BREAKING: Steven Rogers pleads not guilty. More on  [ msnbc.com/1Qmkksr ](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/tkrpm.jpg_zpsqb4vwhjf.png)

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 12min   
Is this a joke or something?  [ #RottenRogers ](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/zit56.jpg_zpshtccytml.png)

With the second arraignment under Bucky’s belt, he and Steve have a small lull before pretrials and the countless motions that will no doubt go down on both sides. Bucky’s going to need to subpoena witnesses if they don’t come willingly, battle with the prosecution over evidence and potentially entertain a good plea bargain if one’s arranged. Though, he doesn’t really want to go down that route. Seeing Steve behind bars would kill Bucky at this point. The more he’s gotten to know him over the past two weeks, the more Bucky’s really come to admire Steve.

Not just because Bucky wants to tie him up and get him to cry and come at the same time. Actual admiration. Steve’s got an unwavering conviction and sense of duty. He’s polite and wears khakis on a  _ regular _ basis (who does that?). He’s always offering to cook and clean for Bucky and when Bucky’s at the office and Steve’s at the apartment, he often decides to do little favors for Bucky.

Just last week, Steve alphabetized Bucky’s entire DVD collection as well as his record collection and cleaned up the study. Bucky didn’t have the heart to tell Steve that could’ve been a huge violation of client-attorney privilege– as Steve saw all of Bucky’s clients’ names, but they’re all criminal cases anyway. Private record eventually becomes public records and as long as Steve didn’t actually look  _ into  _ any of the files, it’s probably okay. 

Bucky likes how eager Steve is to please him. Bucky’s gotten used to coming home to meals and a straightened up apartment. He’s also getting used to coming home to  _ Steve _ . He’s standing just outside his door, wondering what it’d be like to be Steve’s Dom. Bucky would make it mandatory that Steve always cook naked and sit on Bucky’s lap instead of his own chair. Bucky would get to hand feed him and pet his blond head.

_ ‘Get it the fuck together you shithead.’ _

Bucky opens the door, his mouth watering when he looks over to the stir fry Steve has going. He drops his briefcase by the door and groans– mostly to signal he’s actually home. 

Steve’s on the couch, a laptop in front of his face. His nose is practically touching the damn thing. He doesn’t look up. 

“You watchin’ porn or somethin’?” Bucky grumbles out. If he was Steve’s Dom, he’d also make a rule that Steve always has to kiss his cheek upon Bucky coming home. Bucky’s a sucker for cute domestic life. 

“I’m reading about my case,” Steve answers. He’s tracing his lip with his fingers. Bucky’s knees almost buckle at the display. 

Bucky clears his throat, walking behind the couch and leaning over it. He’s a little too close to Steve, but they’ve been living together for two weeks now. Bucky’s pretty sure they’re actually friends at this point. He reads the little article, his heart squeezing. “I’ll get an injunction.” 

Steve sighs, slamming the laptop closed. He winces and looks sheepishly up at Bucky.

“S’okay. You break it and I’ll just make you clean my bathroom for a month.” Bucky moves around the couch to sit by Steve. “Seriously, this is almost grounds for a mistrial. There’s gonna be hardly anyone without a fuckin’ opinion at this point. Selecting a jury may be impossible here in New York.” 

“So what do we do?” 

“I’ll handle it. You just keep cookin’ that stir fry.”

Steve smiles, his pretty blue eyes shimmering all earnestly.  _ God _ , he’s so pretty it physically hurts Bucky. Those pouty red lips, that long nose and that goddamned  _ jawline. _ Bucky wants to kiss it over and over and over…and over…and over… 

Steve stands up, walking over to the kitchen side of the open plan apartment. Bucky leans back and grabs the laptop. He needs to print out the article anyway. 

**Heartbreak in New York: A Sit-Down with Gwen Stacy**   
By Ellen Fairchild, New York Magazine (Dec, 2015)

_ It shouldn’t be news anymore– what happened a little over a month ago at Fraunces Tavern. Steven Rogers, decorated veteran, took it upon himself to violently end the lives of two other men:. Harry Osborn– a brilliant scientist who could’ve revolutionized medicine and Edward “Eddie” Brock– a running back for NYU who could very well have been a future president of this nation. I got the privilege to sit down with Gwen Stacy, girlfriend to Eddie Brock, and speak to her about this terrible tragedy.  _

_ EF: First off, I’m so sorry this happened to you. I don’t know many people who could carry on as strong as you have. What’s been the biggest change in your life, aside from the loss of your boyfriend?  _

_ GS: Probably all the affirmation that there are still good people out there. I’ve gotten a lot of letters offering support. A ton of food. Neighbors I didn’t even know I had have brought brownies and all kinds of things to make this easier. It’s thoughtful, but it’s not any easier.  _

_ EF: What were Harry and Eddie like? _

_ GS: Eddie was just a big teddy bear. Always smiling and goofing off. He loved to take pictures of me. We’d go to the park and he’d just take out that stupid camera and we’d do an impromptu photoshoot. He always found ways to make me beautiful.  _

_ EF: Oh come on, that can’t be hard! _

_ GS: But it is! I can never take a good selfie.  _

_ EF: And Harry? _

_ GS: Harry was the popular guy. You’d think that a guy that into science would just be a total nerd. His best friend’s pretty nerdy– Peter Parker, but they really jived together. Harry broke all the rules of popular stereotypes back in high school. He was fiercely loyal to Peter and I think our entire community will really feel the fallout of his murder.  _

_ EF: Not just death? You do believe this was an intentional brutal killing? _

_ GS: I saw it. What do you call it when a man jumps on another man and starts beating him till his face isn’t there anymore? That’s murder. Rogers is guilty, no matter what his attorney says. Attorneys are liars anyway.  _

_ EF: You’re not fond of attorneys? _

_ GS: My dad’s a cop. Attorneys often get in the way of justice.  _

_ EF: And what would bring you justice, Gwen? _

_ GS: Steve Rogers behind bars for the rest of his life. He deserves worse honestly. A monster like that shouldn’t be allowed to live. _

Bucky reads the words over and over. This shouldn’t have gotten printed. It’s an opinion piece and it risks seriously hurting Steve’s case. The first thing Bucky’s going to do is get a media injunction for this case. He’s pretty sure he can get one due to the high volume it’s getting reported on social media and the news. Unfortunately, Twitter unfortunately feeds the news sites and the news sites indulge in Twitter. It’s a vicious cycle that’s put innocent people behind bars. Bucky winces, seeing the counterargument already locked and loaded in his head. Twitter’s  _ saved _ innocent people too. 

He hits print and then wanders over to the kitchen area. Steve’s at the stove, stirring the vegetables in one pan and cooking the chicken in another. The smells are divine and Bucky just wants to wrap his arms around Steve and nuzzle up against the back of the man’s neck. He settles for leaning against the refrigerator. It’s not nearly as comfortable as Steve’s broad back would be. 

“Smells good,” Bucky compliments.

Steve flashes a smile as he turns the down the burner under the chicken. He grabs a bottle of teriyaki sauce and smothers the vegetables in it before stirring them up again and lowering the heat. 

“I’ll file for a media injunction,” Bucky says. “What that reporter did was outta line.”

Steve just pokes at the chicken in the pan. He looks so dejected– like a little boy who lost his mom. Bucky wants to wrap his arms around him and pull him in for a kiss. This man wears suffering like most women wear their best lipstick. It looks so good on him it’s a shame Bucky wants to make him happy. 

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Steve says, turning around with a baby corn on a fork. He offers it out to Bucky.

Bucky blinks.

“Oh– Oh God!” Steve pulls the fork back, accidentally flinging the baby corn to the floor. “Holy– Shit, Bucky! I’m so sorry! Jesus, fuck.”

Bucky just smirks, watching Steve go red as a tomato as he’s floundering around in front of the stove. 

“Bucky, I’m sorry. I’m so used to cookin’ fer people and– um, I just– we just always. Shit.” 

“Always what?” Bucky asks, tilting his head to the side. 

“Feed each other,” Steve replies barely above a whisper. He’s looking down at the stove, his cheeks still flushed pink. “Ya know– just for taste. For fun.  _ God _ , I’m so sorry.” 

“S’okay,” Bucky laughs, moving to pat Steve on the back. He hates how  _ platonic _ it is. Like a bro comforting his bro. Bucky doesn’t want to be Steve’s  _ bro _ . He wants to be this man’s Dom and lover. 

“And then there’s–” Steve audibly shuts his mouth. 

Bucky leans back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s what?” His voice doesn’t hide the authority he can carry if he needs to. He’s a commanding presence in very specific circumstances, in front of court rooms and in front of subs. Steve  _ is _ a sub. The best part about that is, he’ll just naturally listen to Bucky regardless if they’re together or not. Steve will obey, even if it’s not negotiated or expressed, if he  _ wants _ to. And Bucky prays he wants to. 

“You’re a Dom,” Steve whispers. “I’m sorry.” 

Bucky moves around the counter, going to sit at one of the barstools. “I’m not your Dom, Steve. S’okay– really.” 

_ ‘I fucking wish I was.’ _

Steve relaxes a little, his big shoulders slumping and a small smile coming to his red lips. He moves over to the baby corn on the floor and picks it up to toss into the trash. 

“I guess I’ve gotta ask,” Bucky ventures, tracing his fingers along the granite countertop. “Do you see me as a friend? Or just an attorney?”

Steve tenses a bit. He turns around and stirs up the chicken before drplopping it into the stir fry. He picks up the skillet, tossing the veggies and chicken around until they’re evenly coated. Bucky’s impressed with Steve’s cooking skills. If he tried that, he’d get it all over the kitchen floor. 

“Both?” Steve finally replies. “I mean, yeah. Both.” 

Bucky nods, taking athe moment to appreciate Steve’s ass while he stands over the stove. He sighs, tearing his gaze away and looking at his bedroom door. 

“I think we’re friends too,” Bucky admits. “Or at least, I’d like to be.” 

Steve turns around, smiling. “Yeah. Same.” 

Bucky can’t help the giant smile that lights up his face. At least they’ve taken their relationship  _ that _ far.

* * *

“Your Honor,” Bucky says, smooth as caramel but just as strong as coffee. “If the media continues to produce biased opinions of my client, we’ll be forced to file for a mistrial.”

“On what grounds?” Jen spits out. She’s leaning against the prosecution table, her painted lips hanging open and brow furrowed.

“Counselor,” the judge chides her way. Jen rolls her eyes.

“Open your phone, Your Honor. Google Steve Rogers. You’ll see for yourself. I don’t even need to bring in evidence. This case is getting smeared all over TV and social media.”

“The people have a right–”

“Jennifer!” the judge chastises, exasperation in his voice. He takes out his phone, tapping away on the keys.

Steve shifts in his chair. Bucky hears the creaking. He looks back, offering a smirk to his friend. They’ve been getting along swimmingly the past few days since their little moment in the kitchen. Bucky even took the initiative to cook for Steve and offer out a fork loaded up with eggs and cheese. Steve didn’t grab the fork. Like the good little boy he is, he took the fork into his mouth– his gaze never leaving Bucky’s face.

Bucky is absolutely sure Steve Rogers is going to kill him– not in the murdering way. Steve’s probably done murdering people (Jesus, Barnes!). He  _ is _ done murdering people. But Bucky’s going to die pining away for that big blond. 

“Injunction granted. We can silence the opinion pieces but we can’t halt the facts known to the public. Nor can I prevent people from forming their own opinions. That’s protected under the First Amendment, as you’re aware,” the judge holds. 

“Absolutely, thank you, Your Honor,” Bucky says. He clicks his tongue, waggling his brows defiantly at Jen.

She snarls. Bucky’s got to hand it to her; she’s still pretty when she looks like she wants to rip him to shreds. 

Steve’s smiling, his face flushed from worry but it’s slowly turning back to its peachy complexion. He pulls Bucky into a hug. It’s the first hug Bucky’s ever gotten from this man. Cameras click around them, snapping pictures, but Bucky ignores them. This is his first hug with Steve Rogers! His arms are big and full of muscle. His body is rock solid, like he’s made of granite and not flesh. He’s so unbelievably warm that Bucky just wants to slip out of his clothes and curl around him. 

He hugs Steve back, pressing their chests together and breathing in deep. Steve smells like pine and crisp aftershave. He accidentally brushes his nose on Steve’s neck– the guy’s taller than him after all. Steve makes a little gasp and pulls back. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers, his eyes round. 

“S’okay,” Steve laughs. “I’m tall, I know.” 

Bucky playfully hits the man in the arm. He turns to grab his briefcase, taking a moment to look over at Jen, her brown curls tumbling over her shoulders. She’s exquisite and she knows it. So it’s all the more entertaining for Bucky to see her face pinched up in dismay. She’s got her arms crossed over her chest. Bucky takes a moment to gaze at her breasts– he’s only human.

“Bucky?” A soft tap on the shoulder jolts Bucky from his staring.

Bucky turns around to see Steve. He’s blushing and Bucky’s wondering why he even started fantasizing about Jen when he’s got a man like Steve Rogers  _ living _ with him. 

“You hungry? I’m starvin’,” Bucky blabbers, finally picking up his briefcase. 

“Actually,” a woman’s voice interjects. 

Bucky turns around to see Jen. She looks a lot nicer than she did two seconds ago.  _ Certainly  _ nicer than when she was arguing with the judge minutes ago. 

“I was wondering if you wanted to go to lunch with me, Barnes. There’s some evidence I’d like to discuss with you.” 

Bucky sees the little slump in Steve’s shoulders. 

“Uh, yeah. Okay. S-Steve, just– you can take my car back to the apartment. I’ll be home for dinner.” 

Jen raises a brow. 

“He’s living with me,” Bucky admits. “He got kicked outta his apartment and had nowhere else to go.”

Jen looks to Steve, her eyes showing humanity instead of the cold hammer of justice she typically wields. “I’m sorry. You really had nowhere else to go?”

“No,” Bucky answers for Steve, knowing the man can’t lie to save his damn life. He could’ve maybe stayed with a friend, but Bucky had been selfish. He wanted Steve close.

Steve just slams his mouth shut. He shoves his hands into his pockets and sways on his feet. He’s so cute it’s got to be a fucking crime. 

“Oh,” Jen says, tugging on one of her curls idly. “I had no idea.” 

“Yeah well,” Bucky begins, tucking a loose strand of hair back against the others. “When the media runs a smear campaign on you– people tend to not want you around.” 

Steve doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Jen like the damn innocent big lug he is. Bucky kind of thinks Steve’s like Lenny from  _ Of Mice and Men– _ a gentle guy, but he’s so strong that when he tries to do something good, it goes bad. Bucky winces, remembering the ending of that book. It didn’t go so well for Lenny… 

“So lunch?” Jen clacks her high heeled shoes. She’s forcibly changing the subject. Of course she is. If she gets too close to a defendant then that could change her whole outlook. Last thing she needs is to actually believe Steve’s the innocent man Bucky knows he is.

“Lunch,” Bucky echoes, handing his keys over to Steve. “Don’t scratch it.”

Steve smiles, cupping his hands to take the keys. “Yes sir.” 

Bucky has to suppress the moan that wants to scramble from his throat. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Steve was doing this shit on purpose. 

* * *

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 12min   
Oh boo-hoo! Rogers can’t take the media telling the truth!  [ #RottenRogers ](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/28bb9.jpg_zpsdhelwrcm.png)

Carol Danvers @CaptainCarolD – 45min   
You can silence the media but you can’t silence my thoughts! You’re a murderer!  [ #RottenRogers ](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/6ffls.jpg_zpsoo4kewzw.png)

Lunch with Jen was surprisingly pleasant. She was kind, paid for the lunch (that was exciting) and she actually had a lot of interesting viewpoints. She’s been in the profession as long as Bucky, if not longer. She’s seen a lot of innocent men go down for things they didn’t mean to do. She talked about forming plea deals and upcoming depositions. It was work, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She even mentioned how the appellate level courts may let Steve have a better shot at going free. That was the closest Bucky would ever get that Jen didn’t think Steve deserved what was happening to him. She’d never outright say it– she values her job. But Bucky still read between the lines. 

He struggles with his key for a second, still full from unlimited amounts of breadsticks. Bucky fucking loves breadsticks. When he opens the door, his eyes nearly bulge from his head.

Clint is sitting with Steve. They’re both on the couch with their feet on the coffee table. Clint’s nursing a beer and Steve’s just got water. 

“Uh,” Bucky stammers. 

_ ‘Nice one Barnes…’ _

Clint looks up, instantly taking his feet off Bucky’s coffee table. He straightens up and clears his throat. 

“Hey Bucky. I was just talkin’ to Steve. S’not every day you meet a guy on trial for murder.”

Steve winces.

Bucky groans. He toes out of his shoes and drops his briefcase and keys on the kitchen counter. 

Clint dips his chin, nibbling at his bottom lip. They’re friends, but Clint typically only comes over unannounced when he’s looking for one thing and one thing only– for Bucky’s  _ services _ . Now he’s here with Steve and Bucky just  _ can’t _ do that with Steve around. Maybe if Steve was involved, but he’s a client. He’s not allowed to be. The scandal alone would kill Steve’s case. 

“Clint,” Bucky begins. “Now’s not a good time.” 

Steve looks between them, the little gears in his head turning as he suddenly realizes what’s going on. His mouth drops open, his face goes beet red and he’s abruptly standing like he saw a spider on the sofa. 

“Oh!” Steve exclaims. “Oh my God! I– I can go? I can– I dunno. Go to the park? See a movie?”

Clint laughs. It’s smooth and easy. One of the many reasons why Bucky keeps this guy around. He’s a chill guy. Great sub. Lets Bucky try things he’s never done on him all the time. Sometimes it goes well. Sometimes they both collapse into a fit of laughter while Bucky’s low key mortified from the disaster that just happened. Clint’s always down for new things and he trusts Bucky implicitly. Bucky trusts him too. It’s rare for Bucky to trust anyone, so Clint’s pretty important to him. 

“No problem man. I figured that when you had your client sitting on your couch.” Clint waves it off. “Too bad though. I was really lookin’ forward to getting tied up and rammed into.” 

Bucky’s astounded when Steve’s face manages to blush even redder than the time before. 

“Yeah well,” Bucky begins. He leans back on the kitchen counter, crossing his feet at the ankles. “I’m housing a defendant.” 

“Yeah, we already talked about that.” Clint puts his feet back on the coffee table. Bucky narrows his eyes. That little shit knows when he can get away with stuff. Bucky makes sure to file that away for the next time they  _ do _ get some time together. He’ll be giving Clint a few little punishments for that. 

“He’s been here for a few hours,” Steve fills in, shrugging. “You have a good meeting with Jen?”

Bucky runs his fingers through his hair, feeling the hardened gel product. He walks back behind the counter to the fridge to pull out a beer and cracks it open. It’s a little too early for a beer but since Clint’s drinking… 

“It was good,” Bucky says as he walks away from the kitchen and over to the coffee table. He smacks Clint’s ankles– earning a little yelp from the man. He sits down on the coffee table, letting his legs spread wide so they’re resting against both Clint’s and Steve’s knees. 

Two subs… Bucky’s always wanted to have a threesome scene. 

_ ‘Barnes…seriously…’ _

“She mentioned she’s working on a plea bargain for you.”

“What?” Steve grabs a pillow and squeezes it against his chest. “I can’t go back, Bucky!” 

Bucky holds up a hand. “We can talk later. It’s inappropriate right now anyway with this shithead.”

Clint rolls his eyes and pulls out his hearing aid. “I can’t hear anything! Talk away!”

“Liar, you read lips better than anyone,” Bucky teases, moving to pinch one of Clint’s nipples.

Clint laughs, jerking away and falling over the arm of the couch. He lands on his damn feet like a cat and just crosses his arms. “I ain’t that easy, Barnes. You know that.” 

Bucky smirks, looking up at Clint with more lust than he should in front of Steve. It’s not like he’s got a chance with Steve anyway, but still. He wishes he could  _ have _ a chance with Steve. 

“Clint,” Steve says, standing up. “It was nice meeting you. You should come over for dinner sometime. I’d like to get to know you more.” He’s moving around the sofa to usher Clint out.

Bucky’s mouth is hanging open, watching Clint literally be pushed from the apartment and out into the hall. Bucky’s absolutely sure it’s the plea bargain that’s got Steve acting like this. He wouldn’t be so rude otherwise.

Clint doesn’t seem too bent out of shape about it, but he still looks back at Bucky, that little smile on his face. “Call me, okay? I miss your dick, Sir!” 

“Ya shithead.” Bucky rolls his eyes. 

Steve shuts the door and leans against it, his eyes wide and frightened. He’s like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming car. He’s not sure whether to run or just accept defeat. 

“We don’t have to take it,” Bucky offers. He knows exactly where Steve’s head is right now. “Plea bargains are optional. No one likes a long and drawn out trial, but if you really believe in yourself and the evidence–”

“Gwen Stacy,” Steve whispers, staring at his feet. “If we got her, I’d be fine. I know it!”

Bucky nods, taking a sip of his beer. He looks over to Clint’s now-abandoned beer. He’ll probably have to finish that off too. Steve doesn’t seem like much of a drinker. Since his time living here, he’s not put a drop of alcohol into his system. Bucky’s never asked if there’s a reason or not. He probably should. If this guy’s a recovering alcoholic or something, that’s potentially damaging for the case. 

“I’ll try to see if I can track her down. See if she’ll switch from the prosecution to our side.” 

“She knows what happened,” Steve’s saying. His eyes are distant, like he’s back in the moment his entire life went to hell. “Why’s she on their side?” 

“She’s grieving for her boyfriend. We’ve still got time.” 

Steve slumps against the door, his knees pressed up against his chest. He wraps his big arms around those muscular legs and drops his face. 

Bucky stands there like an idiot. He doesn’t know if he should comfort Steve or just let him cry it out. Everything with Steve has been so confusing. Bucky’s fighting off every urge in his body with that man in his life. He’s trying so hard not to break the biggest rule in the book, but his conviction is crumbling. He wants Steve. He wants him so badly. 

Bucky just turns and goes into his study. He closes the French doors behind himself and looks around the tidied up room– courtesy of Steve. He bites his lip when he hears a sob through the doors. He wants to turn around and say something, but he’s made up his mind.

He lets Steve cry alone.

* * *

**Edward Brock and Harry Osborn: The Boys That Could Have**   
By Jadah Silver  _ The Daily Post _ (Dec 2015)

_ The fateful demise of Edward “Eddie” Brock and Harry Osborn is common knowledge. Their lives were brutally taken from them by a man named Steven Rogers. We know Rogers’ story. He’s a vet, was an art student. But we don’t know the huge impact the loss of these two lives will have on us. Harry was a scientist. His father’s largely successful company, Oscorp, has developed medicine, weapons technology and robotics for the world. It rivals Stark Industries with valuable production to both civilians and military alike. While Stark Industries focuses on clean energy and ways to protect our soldiers, Oscorp focuses on weapons technology and medical advancements. An interesting duo, but a duo nonetheless. Harry was a promising student with bright ideas who was at the top of his class. His research is now left unfinished, but his father has vowed to select someone to take it up and see it completed. This boy could’ve revolutionized science and now, because of a fateful night, the world will never know the extent of all that he could’ve done. It’s unclear if Norman Osborn will sue for wrongful death, but we’re hoping once the criminal trial is over and if Steven Rogers is convicted that he will. A life this promising needs to be fought for. We need to pay our respects to the bright star that burned out too quickly.  _

_ Edward “Eddie” Brock wasn’t just some chump either. He was a star athlete and all-around American boy. Blond hair and blue eyes opened many doors for this boy, but it was his heart that captivated the crowds. Eddie was a gifted speaker. He was studying Politics at New York University before his untimely demise. Beck Underwood, one of Eddie’s closest friends, says, “He wasn’t just a guy in a crowd. He stood out like a star and everyone found themselves pulled to him. [Brock] was one of the most compassionate people. He had big ideas for America.” Classmates all mourn the passing of this man along with Harry. Within New York University is a large memorial to both gentlemen. If anyone wants to pay their respects, please schedule a time with NYU as the school has recently seen an influx of traffic inside its doors and requests the students maintain their privacy and are not disturbed from their studies.  _

“Dude,” Foggy says blankly. “You’re a mess.”

“I know!” Bucky wails, dropping his face next to his burger and fries. Foggy, Matt and Bucky decided to go for a Five Guys burger after a rather agonizing day at the office. Bucky felt he needed to give Steve some space and get out of the apartment. He could’ve worked from home, but since last night, Steve hasn’t really been up for talking. He keeps googling himself. He even went on Facebook and read all the comments. He’s punishing himself and Bucky’s terrified of how far that punishment might go come trial time. 

“I mean, we hired a woman who was accused of murder,” Matt states. “It’s not  _ that _ different.” 

“He’s living with me, Matt,” Bucky grumbles, his face still down on the table. “I’m letting him drive my car, cook me food, clean my apartment and all other kinds of terribly domestic shit and he’s my  _ client _ .” 

Matt just purses his lips. Foggy starts eating Bucky’s fries. 

Bucky sits up, pulling his tray closer to himself and glaring at Foggy. Foggy just waggles his brows, chomping louder on the fries. 

“I don’t know what to do. He’s gonna kill himself at this rate.” 

“Well, at least the press would stop talking about him,” Foggy offers.

“Foggy, really?” Matt snaps back. He turns a little to face Bucky, licking his lips again. “He’s living with you. Be more of his friend and less of his attorney. Take him out or something. Try to get his mind off this trial. He’s scared, right?”

“Out of his mind,” Bucky confesses. He doesn’t want to admit how scared he is or how deeply he’ll fall for this guy if he takes him out. What would they do? Go get dinner? Watch a movie and hold hands in the dark theater? God, it hurts how badly Bucky wants that. 

“Then be there for him. You’re his friend  _ and _ his attorney.” 

Bucky bites his lip, staring at his burger. He’s not really hungry right now. All he wants to do is press his lips against Steve’s and pull out every little whimper he knows that body’s capable of. He wants to make Steve feel safe and protected. He wants to do everything he can for Steve to get him through his trial. 

_ ‘Shit.’ _

“Any news on the plea bargain?” Foggy asks before taking a bite of his burger. 

Bucky shakes his head. “I just know it’s comin’ since Jen told me.” 

Matt nods. “Well, if Steve says he’s innocent– he’s innocent. What’s step two.” 

“We need Gwen Stacy to corroborate Steve’s story. If we get that, we basically win over the jury.” 

“Have you started jury selection?” Matt asks before popping a fry into his mouth.

“Nah, way too early. We just had our last arbitration a few weeks ago. We’re doing evidence hearings now and depositions.” 

“Who’re you deposing?” Foggy inquires, dropping his burger. 

“Sam Wilson. He’s a friend of Steve’s. Few other witnesses at the bar.”

“What about Peter Parker?” Matt suggests, licking the salt off his lips. “He was Harry’s best friend. Was he there?”

“Actually, come to think of it. I’ve not heard anything about that kid until Gwen did that piece for  _ New York Magazine _ .”

“Man, Gwen’s a piece of work,” Foggy comments. “She’s still out there spouting how pure Eddie and Harry were. They found a loophole through your injunction. They’re making those two out to be goddamned heroes.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course they’d find a loophole, but he couldn’t just stand there and let Steve’s name get dragged through the mud. They need an impartial jury. At this rate, no one will come into that selection room without an opinion. Bucky’s going to have a field day come jury selection. 

“Check out Peter Parker,” Matt says again. “Seriously. It may end up as nothing, but it’s worth a shot.”

Bucky nods. He decides he needs to eat his burger before Foggy steals it from him. Peter Parker, huh? Okay, Bucky’ll do just that.

* * *

Bucky wakes the next day to the smell of pancakes and syrup. He rolls out of bed, forgoing a shirt in his sleep-stupor and pads out into the living space. Steve’s at the stove, flipping a pancake and humming. Bucky smiles wide when he sees a pot of brewing coffee. 

“Morning,” Steve says, offering a smile. He flushes red, his eyes scanning over Bucky’s form before turning back to the stove. “Uh, there’s c-coffee.”

Bucky looks down at himself, running a hand over his toned chest. So he works out– a lot. His body may not be as large as Steve’s, but it’s still pretty powerful. He smiles, a silent victory cheer in his mind as he walks over to the coffee. 

“Mm, looks good,” he praises. He notices Steve’s wearing baggy sweats and a NYU hoodie. It hides his beautiful form, much to Bucky’s dismay. 

“Thanks,” Steve lilts as he scoops up a pancake and slaps it onto a plate. “Bacon’s almost ready.”

“There’s bacon?!” Bucky exclaims, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, I’ve got it cooking in the oven. I’m trying out a new way to cook it. Make it less greasy.”

“I like grease,” Bucky comments, crossing his arms over his chest. He notices how Steve struggles to keep his gaze on Bucky’s face. Bucky wants to use this. He wants to step closer to Steve and see what happens, but he’s so damn scared. But Steve’s not a bad guy. Even if he wasn’t interested, he’d never report Bucky to the bar association. It couldn’t hurt, could it?

“Yeah well, I’d like to not die at sixty from high cholesterol,” Steve sasses back. He winks at Bucky and pours out more mix onto the griddle. 

Bucky smirks. He watches Steve stand by the stove, nursing his coffee. He likes living with Steve. The man pulls more than his weight around here and Bucky can’t complain about the lack of dirty dishes piled up. He’s pretty glad the place actually looks like a home instead of a tornado scene. It’s not the homiest apartment. The walls are slate gray, the appliances black and the counters a white quartz. The living space has a black leather couch and the flooring is all deeply dyed to almost black. It’s not entirely sterile though. There are pictures of Bucky’s family, his parents and his sister. He’s now got his sister’s kids’ pictures up on bookshelves too. It’s not homey, but it’s not sterile. It’s that weird in-between that Bucky likes to just call “not cluttered”. 

“Breakfast’s ready,” Steve announces, jostling Bucky from his thoughts. 

Bucky watches Steve serve him up some bacon and fluffy pancakes before he slides the dish over to himself. He takes the fork Steve hands him and smiles. 

“Thanks Stevie.”

Steve tenses for a second, but he doesn’t say anything. Bucky wonders about the reactions to the nickname. At first, Steve was pissed he used it. A few weeks ago, it didn’t seem to bother him. Now it made him go stiff as a board and then back to his regular antsy self. Bucky wonders if Steve’s always this stressed. Probably not, actually. Steve used to be an art student. Not a defendant in a murder trial. 

“This is good,” Bucky praises around a bite of pancake. 

Steve beams at him before biting into his own pancake. He barely used any butter on his, but he loaded up Bucky’s plate with the delicious stuff. Bucky’s going to have to start hitting the gym more often if Steve keeps cooking like this. 

“Bucky,” Steve ventures. 

Bucky’s heart stops as he watches that man’s face fall. Steve’s not good at hiding shit. Bucky’s known that since day one. 

“I think I should move out. I mean, you’ve been amazing and I really appreciate it but– I– um, it’s just– it ain’t fair and–”

Bucky doesn’t even keep listening to Steve. His veins feel cold and he’s pretty sure his heart’s just shifted into his stomach. He feels like a rubber band, all stretched out and straining with the impending doom of being snapped and broken. 

“What ain’t fair? Steve, you’re fine here! I like you here! Don’t fuckin’ worry about it!” 

“It’s just– I don’t pay rent. I don’t pay for food. I’m not even payin’ for you to represent me. I just feel so worthless.” His shoulders slump over and his chin tucks into his chest.

Bucky’s heart breaks for him. 

“Steve, listen to me.” Bucky’s voice is firm. He waits for Steve to look up before continuing. “You’re  _ not _ worthless. You’ve done a lot for me. I could barely keep this place clean when it was just me. You’ve been a huge help. I don’t mind you livin’ here.” 

Steve licks his lips, looking off to the side. 

“Steve, seriously. I’m happy with you here. Maybe we should just– go out or something? Like friends?”

Steve’s eyes go round. He stands there, letting the pancake bite on his fork slip back down atop his plate. He sucks in his lips and Bucky sees that delicate blush on his cheeks. Jesus, this man blushes easier than a fifteen-year-old virgin. 

“We don’t gotta go anywhere special,” Bucky continues. “Like, maybe a walk through the park or somethin’. I dunno. Bonding experience? I mean, we’re friends right?” 

Steve nods, licking his lips. 

Bucky wants to be more than friends. It cuts him like a cold knife to toss around that word when it’s the last thing he wants. He’s not sure he can settle for just friendship with this man. He craves affection from Steve. He craves Steve so much more than he should. 

“Yeah,” Steve finally says. “Yeah that’d be great.” 

Bucky nods, sticking another piece of pancake on his fork. 

“Good,” he responds. 

Steve goes back to eating his pancakes, his shoulders not sagging for once. 

“So, you talk to your friends or mom recently?” Bucky asks, trying to make casual conversation. He can’t stand silence around Steve. He’s got to be filling it with something or he’ll do something he regrets. 

“Yeah, I talk to Peggy and Sharon every day. They were the ones who suggested I move out and go with them. Sam I talk to too.” 

Bucky swallows his pancakes, watching Steve for a moment. “Do you want to leave?”

“I mean– I dunno. I just, I just thought I was a bother.”

“Steve,” Bucky breathes out, dropping his fork. He’s not hungry anymore anyway. “You’re not a bother. At all. But if you ain’t happy then of course you can go. I’m not tryin’ to keep you cooped up like a caged bird.” 

“Honestly, it’s nicer here. Press keep comin’ ‘round my mom’s house. Peggy and Sharon are gettin’ some of it too. I like that your place has security.”

Bucky smiles, shrugging. He picks up his plate and goes over to the garbage to scrape all the uneaten pancake and bacon away before dropping it into the sink.

“Do the dishes. Or that security’s gonna be yankin’ you out.” He winks.

Steve sucks in his lips, his hips swaying a bit. “Yessir,” he slurs. 

Bucky’s pretty sure he can feel his pupils dilating from how insanely bad he wants this man. He coughs to fill the silence before moving over to the TV to turn it on. He groans a little as he leans forward to grab his case file. He looks inside, reading over Gwen’s profile and then pulling over his laptop to start looking up Peter Parker. 

“Do you know who Peter Parker is?” Bucky asks over his shoulder.

Steve’s still over by the sink. He’s rinsing off the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher. “Nope.”

“Okay, just makin’ sure,” Bucky replies as he looks up if Peter’s got a public record. The last thing Bucky needs is to put a guy with a criminal background up on the stand, even if he could help Steve’s case. He looks through state records, searching for anything about Parker. 

“He’s Osborn’s friend, right?” Steve asks, coming to sit on the couch. He leans into Bucky, looking at the computer.

“Yup. Gonna see if he knows somethin’.”

“But he’s Osborn’s friend. Why would he help me?”

Bucky shrugs, coming up with clean record after clean record for this kid. Doesn’t even have parking tickets. “Because we need anything and everything, Steve.” 

Steve’s silent for a long period of time as he watches Bucky work. It isn’t until an hour later that Bucky realizes Steve’s been drawing him this entire time. Bucky smiles, looking down at the drawing. It’s on lined paper and with one of Bucky’s shitty Bic pens, but it’s beautiful art. 

“Sorry,” Steve says. “Sometimes it’s hard not to draw. You just look so focused.”

“I’m compiling your case. Gotta be focused on you.”

Steve lets a small smile twitch onto his lips. He curls his toes in and Bucky just wants to throw the laptop and start nipping at those toes, go up his ankles and nose along the line of his crotch. 

“Hey, you wanna…you wanna do something we haven’t done yet?” Bucky asks. He probably shouldn’t be framing the question like this, but he knows there’s nothing wrong with him showing Steve the playroom. Steve’s never asked to see, but Bucky’s pretty sure Steve’s just being polite. They haven’t really mentioned the Dom/sub thing since they first really talked about it. Then there was the stir fry incident. After that though, radio silence. Bucky wants to see Steve’s reaction to that room. He wants to know if his endearing little smiles are just because he’s a sweet guy or if there’s perhaps some kind of longing on Steve’s side. 

“What is it?” Steve cocks his head to the side, scrutinizing Bucky. 

“Wanna see my playroom? Ya know, for fun.”

Steve’s eyes go wide for a moment before he’s silently nodding.

Bucky smiles, yanking Steve up by the wrist and going over to the locked door. It’s the second bedroom, but Bucky of course found other uses for it. He feels a little guilty that Steve’s been sleeping on a sofa when he could’ve had a room, but Bucky’s been populating his playroom with stuff for  _ years _ . It’s not like he could just hide the stuff in a closet and call it a day.

“Before you go in though, this ain’t some weird trap or anythin’. You’re into this and so am I. But this isn’t like, I dunno– me tryin’ to seduce you or somethin’.”

Steve just cracks a crooked smile, moving past Bucky and walking in. 

Bucky lingers in the doorway. He’s not entirely sure if he should go in, but at the same time, there are a lot of things in there that Steve could hurt himself on if he got too curious. Bucky slips into the room, pressing himself up against the wall.

“Holy shit you weren’t kidding,” Steve professes. 

Bucky feels the heat in his cheeks as he scratches at his neck. “It’s taken about seven years to get to where it is.” 

Steve walks along the toolkits to the side of the room, opening the drawers and looking over vibrators, dildos, cock rings, wand stimulators and cock cages; all kinds of smaller gear. He opens another drawer to find silks, shibari ropes and duct tape. Bucky knows duct tape isn’t really standard in a playroom, but Clint’s really into it being ripped from his lips– so Bucky does it. They like to play the whole supervillain catches the superhero thing. Clint’s big into roleplay. 

Steve quickly grows uninterested in the aftercare supplies in one of the toolkits and starts moving along the back wall of the room. He looks at the fucking bench and spins the sex swing around a few times. There’s a doggy style locking spreader hanging on the wall and he pauses, looking over at Bucky. 

Bucky just shrugs. 

“Spreaders are my favorite,” Steve says. “I haven’t really tried out dungeon furniture before.”

Bucky sucks his lips in, holding back the groan. This was a bad idea. He knew they’d be talking about this but he didn’t expect his body to react this way. It’s like he’s on fire. Every little nerve in his body is sizzling and Steve’s so close and yet so far. He’s here, in this very room but he’s so completely unavailable it’s not even funny. 

Bucky should just kick him out for the night and get Clint over before he explodes. 

“What’s this?” Steve asks, pointing to one of the apparatuses in the room.

“It’s a stockade. Your neck goes into the circle at the top, your wrists down there and you rest your chest on the chest pad.” Bucky moves over to the stockade and opens the back cuffs. “Ankles get restrained here and this little thing fucks you senseless.” He flicks the peach colored dildo for emphasis.

“Jesus,” Steve breathes out, looking over the thing with a renewed interest.  

“You can also take the fucking rod off and just let your Dom take you.”

“And you’re an attorney. But you have the most extensive playroom I’ve ever seen.” 

“Everyone’s got a hobby.” Bucky shrugs.

“I like your setup,” Steve comments. “It’s all so organized. I like the floggers and whips up on the wall like that and all your toolkits are pretty cool.” 

“My apartment is a disaster but at least this room is always spotless,” Bucky says, sitting on the chest pad of the stockade. 

“What’s that thing?” Steve asks, pointing to a long metal bar with cuffs down at the bottom and a small apparatus at the top. 

“It’s a pillory,” Bucky explains. 

“A what?”

“Do you even sub?” Bucky teases, moving over to the equipment. “You put your ankles here, I lock you in and then this thing here.” Bucky points to the top. “Crushes your dick and balls. It’s not something I use really intensely. But it’s good for punishment play.” 

Steve just stares at the pillory, licking his lips from side to side. 

“I can tell your Doms where I got it, if you want?”

“Th-they’re not my Doms,” Steve says quickly. He swallows before moving over to where Bucky keeps the stirrups and slings over some coat hangers next to the door. “They’re just friends. I– I’ve never really done it like this. With like, a playroom.”

Bucky just listens, looking around. He moves to sit on one of the swings, letting it rock him back and forth.

Steve laughs.

“What?”

“It’s just funny. That thing’s been used for sex but you’re just– using it like an actual swing.” 

“A bed’s also for sleeping, but I enjoy fuckin’ in it. Same thing.” Bucky swings a little harder for emphasis. He hopes he’s not overdoing it though, this thing isn’t meant to go more than a few feet off the ground. He reaches his feet out and comes to a stop. 

“What’s that?” Steve asks, pointing to a spreader with a spot to hook up a wand or vibrator to. It’s usually used for women but Nat’s as Dom as Doms come so it’s not like he’ll be using it on her. Bucky inherited it from another sub when she was moving out of town. He’s tried it on Clint and it was actually a huge success. The wand hit at Clint’s cock and Bucky got to flog him the few times Clint cried out from the pleasure (Clint had been instructed to be silent). And Bucky’s the last one to complain about free sex dungeon toys. Shit’s expensive. He’s got a $500 dollar fucking machine over in the corner of the room, for example.

“It says it’s called an orgasm tower. Just turn the wand on and you squirm pretty hard. Your hands and feet get restrained with it. I’ve got one for anal play next to it.” Bucky points to the other one with the long, slender dildo atop it. 

“Are you a Master or just a Dom?”

Bucky cocks a brow.

“I mean, oh wow, that was probably inappropriate of me.”

Bucky laughs, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. “Nah I’m just a Dom who’s single and makes a nice living as an attorney. I’m not really into Master/slave. Just Dom/sub.”

“Yeah? Can I know why?” 

“Uh– I’m not into taking away all control. I mean, I’d hate it if someone told me where to go, what to say and when to shit or piss. So, I guess I kinda just project? I know submission’s a gift– and I love seeing Masters with their slaves, but, I guess I’m just not comfortable being given so much submission.”

“That’s respectable,” Steve replies, coming to sit on one of the bondage horses. Bucky just wants to push him back and restrain him right then and there. He could cut his clothes off. Those baggy and unappealing clothes… “What’s your favorite thing in here?”

Bucky opens his mouth to take a big breath. He looks around the room and points to the steel suspension bar by the window. 

“Suspension’s my favorite,” he answers. “I mean, yeah restraining gets the job done but there’s just a tiny bit more art form in suspension. You done it?”

Steve shakes his head. “Been in a cage though. Peggy fed me dog food and scratched me behind my ear. I’m still not sure if I was really into it or not.”

Bucky laughs. “The dog food or the scratch behind the ear?”

“Well I hate dog food. So I guess that.”

“But you liked the cage?” 

Steve nods, leaning back on the horse and mimicking the correct position. Bucky nearly comes in his fucking pants. This man’s got to know what he’s doing to Bucky. He’s displaying himself, arching his back over the curve of the horse, bringing his fucking legs up and folding them along the table and tossing his hands up and letting them fall into the open wrist cuffs. Bucky wants to slam them shut.

“Yeah,” Steve finally says after he gets himself into the position. “But I don’t think I would anymore. I’ve been to prison. So fuck cages.” 

Bucky snorts. “Hey Steve?”

“Hm?”

“You’re about five seconds from getting slammed into there.”

Steve laughs, but he leans up. “Sorry. I just wanted to see if I could do it. I’m pretty flexible.” 

Bucky sucks in a deep breath. He’s beginning to question how ignorant Steve really is of Bucky’s desire. Displaying for Bucky? Talking about what he likes? Getting into  _ fucking position _ ? Bucky’s not sure anyone’s that ignorant. 

“If you could try out one thing in here, what would it be?” Bucky asks, tilting his head to the side. He runs his tongue over his top lip, watching Steve slink off the bondage horse. 

Steve walks around the equipment, running his hands along the black steel or the leather cushions on the furniture. He stops at the fuck bench, pointing. 

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m kind of curious.” 

Bucky hums, coming to stand behind Steve. He leans forward, his breath hot on Steve’s ear. “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you.”

Steve’s knees almost buckle. He stumbles back into Bucky’s chest, his mouth dropped open. His eyes are dark and he whines in his throat. It pulls all kinds of reactions from Bucky. He gets this rush of overprotective desperation to keep Steve safe from the world. His fingers start tingling where Steve’s falling into him.

“S-sorry!” Steve exclaims, scrambling out of Bucky’s arms and making his way for the door. “I shouldn’t– This–”

Bucky chases him out of the room, watching him throw himself to his knees and start folding up his clothes in front of the couch.

“Woah, simmer down kid, it was a joke!” Bucky says as he comes around the sofa. “Seriously, Steve, it was a fuckin’ joke!”

“That’s– that’s not the problem!” Steve takes in a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. He sits back on his ankles, pushing his face into his hands. “I don’t want it to be a joke.” 

Bucky furrows his brow. There’s no way in hell Steve said that. He’s throwing his clothes into a bag. He’s trying to leave. There’s no way he’d want it…right?

“Wait, hold on, what?”

Steve breathes in deep through his nose, squirming atop his folded legs. “Bucky,” he whines. His voice is so tight that Bucky’s not sure if he’s going to cry or not. “You’re my attorney.” 

“I know,” Bucky replies, his face pinched. “It was a joke, Steve. I’m sorry! I won’t do it again.” 

“No,” Steve wails, dropping his face to the floor. His back is curved, ass a bit up and all Bucky wants to do is slowly pull those sweats down and finger at that hole till he’s got his boy mumbling and squirming against him.

His boy… as if. The man’s trying to beat it the fuck out of here. Bucky shouldn’t have said that. It was a joke. It was just meant to be a stupid joke! It doesn’t matter if Bucky  _ didn’t _ want it to be a joke. He knew it was one. In what universe would Bucky actually get what he wants? He wins cases, he has friends, but he’s never gotten the guy he  _ really _ wants. They always leave him. Why would Steve be any different? Bucky’s an attorney anyway. He barely has time for himself because of the job. How’s he going to have time for a man as flawless as Steve? Damaged, yes, but still flawless. It was a stupid joke and now Bucky’s paying for it. 

“You’re not gonna pull me off your case, right?” Bucky asks tightly.

“What? No!” Steve sits up, his hands tucked in his lap. “No, Bucky. That’s not. I’m sorry. I know it was a joke. I just– the way I–”

“Reacted?” Bucky fills in for him. 

“Yeah,” Steve admits, swallowing loudly. “That wasn’t very professional of me.” 

“Wait, you? I’m the one who got too close to you!” Bucky attempts to correct. “Steve, stop packing. Please,  _ please _ .” 

Steve freezes, looking up at Bucky. His face is flushed and he’s breathing hard. 

“I– I’m a Dom. You’re a sub. Maybe, maybe this is okay?” Bucky ventures. He feels like he’s going to pass out. This is not okay. In no state in the country is this okay. 

_ ‘Do not have sex with your client, do not have sex with your client, do not have sex with your client.’ _

“B-Bucky…” Steve breathes out. His shoulders relax. He sits back but pulls his ankles out from under him so he’s sitting comfortably on the floor. He’s looking up at Bucky with child-like wonder. Bucky could be a god descended from the heavens and that’s the look Steve would wear. 

“You just,” Bucky keeps going. “You just keep beatin’ yourself up. You’re punishing yourself for something you did and yeah, you’re in trouble. Shit, you’re in  _ a lot _ of trouble. But it’s okay. You’ve got me. I swear to whatever God that’ll listen, I’m here for you. I wanna– I wanna save you, Steve. Maybe if you let me…” He kneels before Steve, grabbing the man’s shoulders. “I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re fucking gorgeous and I’ve imagined myself doing some pretty unspeakable things to you already.”

Steve laughs. 

“You say no, and that’s completely okay. But I wanna help you Steve. If you want punishment, let me do it, so it’s safe. Then at least I know you’re not gonna hurt yourself.” 

Steve swallows thickly. He drops his head, looking between his body and Bucky’s. Bucky’s heart is about ready to slice itself out of his chest and drop from the window to the ground. He’s on high alert and panicking more than the day he had his first oral argument in front of a panel of judges. But Steve’s not running. He’s not shoving Bucky away. He’s not even packing anymore. 

“You wanna be my Dom?” Steve asks, more for clarification than a request. 

“I’d be honored to be,” Bucky replies gently. “I just wanna protect you, Steve. And maybe fuck you.”

Steve laughs again. “Blunt.”

“Comes with goin’ to law school.” Bucky tries to crack a grin but it comes out crooked and uncertain. He’s still so scared that Steve’s going to push him away and run for it. 

“I’ve seen enough Law & Order to know this isn’t really okay,” Steve continues.

Bucky’s heart sinks. He sits back, dropping his hands from Steve’s shoulders. 

“But, if we could keep it a secret? Then it’s okay, right?” Steve asks hopefully. “I don’t know how much freedom I’ve got left. I don’t wanna hate myself until my trial.” 

Bucky nods, reaching for Steve’s hands. “I could get disbarred. But trust me, you’re worth that risk.”

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’m serious! I’m an attorney! Who do you think is better qualified to really figure people out? We see everything. You tell us everything. I know you Steve. You’re a fuckin’ good guy. You’re shy, aware of how built you are yet you still can’t come to terms with the fact that someone finds you attractive. You’re so damn smart but you’re scared to show it off in case you piss someone off– unless they deserve it, then you’re right in their face. You’re funny and you care deeply about others. You think people owe it to each other to help out when they can. That’s what got you into this mess, right Steve? You tried to help someone because you had the power to do so.”

Steve doesn’t talk, he just stares into Bucky’s eyes. 

“God, Stevie,” Bucky groans. “I know you. I know you a lot better than you think I do. You’ve got a sense of purpose that would give any politician pause. You don’t ignore people. You’re beautifully awkward and genuine. And you can’t lie to save your damn life.”

Steve smiles.

“Yeah, good thing I’m not allowed to let you lie on the stand anyway. But see? Am I hitting the mark? Do I know you?”

Steve nods, breathless. 

“Then let me  _ really _ help you. I’m so much more than a paper pusher or someone who likes yelling in a courtroom.”

“I know,” Steve whispers, his face going beet red. “Clint talked about it. I– It sounded great. Like you really care.” 

“I do care,” Bucky affirms. “I wouldn’t let you stay here if I didn’t care about you.” 

“Not like that,” Steve answers, shaking his head. “I mean, when you’re–um, when you’re in that room? With Clint?”

Bucky smiles. 

“I do care,” Bucky says again with a better understanding of where Steve’s head’s at. “Why don’t I make you some tea and you can calm down. Okay?”

Steve nods.

Bucky helps him stand up. Steve leans his weight into him, broad and warm. Bucky’s always been mesmerized by how massive this man is, but now he’s so small. He’s got his face tucked into Bucky’s neck and he’s trembling like a child who’s seen a ghost. He helps Steve lie down on the couch. He fluffs up the pillow behind the blond’s head and he pulls some blankets over him. 

“You okay?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Steve replies crisply. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. I like taking care of people. S’why I do what I do.” He turns for the kitchen to put a kettle on the stove. 

As he waits, he keeps looking over at Steve. The man’s breathing evenly now, his big hands just barely trembling. He’s not sure if it’s excitement or worry that’s got Steve like this, but Bucky can’t help but feel excited by it. Either way, he gets to take care of Steve. That’s all he’s wanted since he first saw him. 

It almost slipped through Bucky’s fingers. He pushed a little too far, or maybe pushed in a way that he shouldn’t have. Maybe he should’ve started with how he wanted to be Steve’s Dom. That could’ve gone smoother than the jolted upstart that just occurred. But at least they still arrived to the same conclusion. Bucky’s going to be Steve’s Dom.

Bucky…is going to be Steve’s Dom.

He smiles, running his tongue back and forth over his lips. Butterflies are dancing inside his stomach, ticking at his insides and all he wants to do is laugh. Steve’s okay with this. They’ve got a strange road ahead of themselves, like navigating the courtrooms and depositions but they can do this. They just got to make sure  _ no one _ finds out. 

That’s the most important part. Not even Clint can find out. One loose end is a loose end too many and Bucky’s not okay with that. He wants to keep Steve as safe as possible and if this gets out then the case is ruined. It’s not that Clint would go blabbing to anyone, but Bucky’s taking an overprotective caution with Steve. He’s never yearned so hard for someone before. Steve’s a whole different kind of person. He’s damaged and so pure that he’s almost hard to look at. Bucky fears he’ll get sun blots in his vision if he looks at Steve for too long. 

Bucky hears the tea kettle’s cries. He turns to take it off the burner and goes about pouring two cups of tea. He fixes his with a little bit of sugar and some milk.

“How do you take your tea?” he calls over his shoulder.

“One scoop of sugar and that’s it,” Steve replies. He sounds better at least.

Bucky comes back to the sofa and Steve holds his shaking hands out to Bucky. 

“Hey,” Bucky coos. “Why’re you still shakin’? You’re okay.” 

Steve closes his eyes, holding the tea beneath his chin. He pulls his knees up so Bucky can sit next to him. 

“Excited. Scared. Relieved. Apprehensive,” Steve lists out. He sniffs at the tea, crinkling up his nose as the steam probably tickles at him.

“That’s a lot of feelings,” Bucky indulges, setting his tea on the coffee table. “Why’re you scared?”

“I don’t want anyone to hurt you,” Steve replies. “Like, if they find out.” 

“I’ll be okay. We won’t tell anyone. So, don’t tell your friends, okay? After the case is over and you’re  _ acquitted,  _ we could probably start goin’ public. Like, maybe a few months after. When you’re not a client anymore.”

“What if I’m not acquitted?” Steve asks. He takes a little sip of tea. 

“Then we appeal and we keep it hidden till I get you off.”

Steve smiles.

“Wow, no pun actually intended,” Bucky says through a smile. “I’m usually so much smoother than this.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Steve indulges, taking another sip of tea. “I’ve seen you in a courtroom. I think that’s where I found myself being  _ insanely _ attracted to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky quirks a brow. 

“You’ve got this– presence. You’re a goddamned force to be reckoned with and it’s awe-inspiring and mildly terrifying. Your eyes get all lit up and I just can’t stop watchin’ you.” 

Bucky takes a sip of his tea, positively pleased with himself. He knows he’s hot shit in a courtroom, but to hear it from Steve brings out this little bubble of pride. 

“So why’re you excited?” Bucky asks smoothly, keeping the mug in front of his lips for warmth. December’s not exactly been too terrible this year, but cold is cold. Though he does have his heat set to a standard seventy-two degrees. His nose always gets cold easily and same with his toes. 

“Because of you,” Steve answers. “I never thought– I just thought you’d always be that really cool attorney I met. Like a story to tell, when I’m in prison?”

“Okay, stop right there,” Bucky interjects. “You’re not goin’ to prison. Not if I have anything to say about it. Okay? So stop thinkin’ like that.”

Steve just shrugs. 

“Hey.” Bucky reaches a hand out to cup Steve’s chin. “I mean it.”

“Yes Sir,” Steve responds, his lips parting. 

Bucky pulls his hand back, wrapping it around the mug to join his other hand. 

“You’re relieved and apprehensive, wanna talk those through too?” Bucky requests. 

“It’s all about you,” Steve admits hesitantly. “Everything’s all about you. I’m excited. I’m absolutely terrified. I mean, that room? That’s a fuckin’ dungeon. I haven’t done most of the stuff in there. But I want to. I think.” 

“We can talk about it,” Bucky says. “I’d be a pretty shitty Dom if we didn’t talk out your limits.” 

“And I’d be a shitty sub if I didn’t talk about  _ yours _ ,” Steve adds.

Bucky looks over at Steve, completely caught off-guard. Most people assume a Dom is fine with everything. It’s not every day that Bucky meets someone who recognizes Doms have limits just as much as subs do. Sometimes even more. It can be psychologically traumatizing to actually hurt someone you care about, especially in a scene. 

“Well,” Bucky finally says. “We’ve got all night. Whenever you’re ready.”

“Just give me an hour,” Steve answers, closing his eyes. “I just need’ta– wrap my brain around all that just happened.” 

Bucky smirks, taking Steve’s tea from him so he doesn’t accidently burn himself. “Sure thing, Stevie.” 

Steve just smiles as he melts back into the sofa.

* * *

Bucky lets Steve sleep for three hours. He needed to do some work anyway so that’s no skin off his back. He’s organized a few of the depositions he plans to conduct. Done a little research on self-defense cases and now he’s just reading through the last one when Steve pads into the study.

His hair is all tousled up and he’s rubbing at his eyes in the most adorable way Bucky’s ever seen a grown man do it. He’s sluggish and he sways as he walks until he’s plopping down into the reading chair in the corner.

Bucky just watches, a small smile on his face. 

“I said an hour,” Steve grumbles. He yawns, reaching his arms up and curving his back in a big stretch. 

“You were conked out and I needed to do some work. I’m sorry,” Bucky replies. “I’ve got all the depositions ready.”

“Yeah, what’s a deposition again?” 

“Evidentiary question and answer sessions, basically. We get to depose the prosecution’s witnesses, but they also get to depose ours. Sam Wilson’s our best one, but I wish he’d seen what happened. We’ve got character witnesses but we could always dismiss them. That’s up to you. If you want character witnesses, we got ‘em, but the prosecution can also find other character witnesses to smear your name.” 

“They can try,” Steve answers. It’s the first time Bucky’s heard him sound confident. “As you said, I like helping people. I doubt they’ll find anyone who’ll tell them I’m a shithole person.” 

“Alright,” Bucky concludes. He turns his desk chair around to the desk and scribbles down a few notes. “Character witnesses are a go. And you’ll also be deposed.”

“Me?”

“You’re the defendant. You’re gonna take the stand, so they need to depose you. I’ll be there with you though, so relax.” 

Steve takes a deep breath, slinking down in the chair. 

“Wanna talk about more exciting things now?” Bucky suggests, an impish smile on his lips. 

Steve opens one eye and matches Bucky’s smirk. He leans up, groaning a little and popping his neck a few times.

Bucky winces, watching. He’s not one for cracking his neck or back. Knees and knuckles are kind of his thing. 

“Tell me what you’re into,” Bucky asks right out of the gate. His heart’s still fluttering in his chest from before despite the hours that’ve passed. He’s so excited. He’s excited he gets to kiss this man, hold him and fuck him till he’s crying. He’s excited he gets to praise him, tell him it’s going to be okay and that they can get through this together. It means so much more when the other really trusts Bucky during a trial. And who trusts a Dom more than a sub? 

“Uh.” Steve leans back in the chair, folding his legs beneath himself. He nibbles at his lower lip while thinking. Bucky runs his own tongue over his lips, watching. “What am I into…?” He furrows his brow and clicks his tongue a few times.

Bucky cocks a brow. “You want me to go first?” 

“Uh, please?” Steve blushes, dipping his chin a little. 

Bucky tilts his head to the side, rolling his eyes. This man’s so adorable it almost makes Bucky want to vomit. 

“Okay so things I’m into. Everything in that room, obviously– so hardcore restraints, gags, corporal punishment, suspension, torture play. I’m a firm believer in aftercare and kissing. So expect that a lot. I like rules. I like nipple play, toys, I’m a fucking slut for booty shorts.” 

Steve smirks. Bucky feels a smile blooming on his own face in response. 

“I’m now realizing I made this the broadest question ever and I’m floundering to find a concise way to respond.” 

“Ha! Attorneys.” 

“Shut up, punk.” 

Steve just preens, sitting up more in the chair. Bucky hasn’t seen him this relaxed, well, ever.

“Okay, redo,” Bucky says, furrowing his brow. “How about we just talk kinks.”

“I’m good with that,” Steve answers. “You first though, please?” 

“Why? So you get to figure out what kind of freak I am?”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “No. So I can calm down about feeling like what kind of freak  _ I _ am.” 

Bucky wants to hold this man and tell him that couldn’t be further from the truth. He opts for leaning back in his chair, legs wide, and clicks his tongue. 

“Okay so kinks. Ass kink, bondage kink, suspension kink, I’m gonna stop saying kink.”

Steve laughs. 

“Authority, praise, humiliation– uh to you, not me. Pain and honestly that one goes both for you and me. I’m totally down for getting flogged every once in a while.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. 

“Uh, I’m totally into basically anything vanilla too, so, if you just wanna watch porn and fuck missionary– whatever. That’s cool too. Sex swings, weird positions, facefucking…saliva…I’m really into frottage.” 

Steve just smiles. He’s got the prettiest smile– all white teeth and cherry red lips. Bucky wonders if those lips taste as good as they look. 

“Where’s the really kinky shit, Barnes?” Steve teases. He reaches a foot out and gently taps Bucky on the knee with it. “You’re holdin’ back on me.” 

“Temperature,” Bucky continues. “Biting, scratching, sucking, whatever. Spanking– you.”

“Naturally,” Steve adds. He’s still smiling. Bucky can’t get enough of that smile. 

“Exhibitionism. But just you n’ me. Can’t really go outside and fuck you can I? Though I  _ could _ restrain you in front of a window and put a sex machine up your ass… That’d be fun.”

“You’re a piece of work.”

Bucky nods. 

“You’re still holding back the interesting shit,” Steve chides. 

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky laughs. He taps his fingers to his mouth. “Okay, it’s almost easier if I tell you what I’m  _ not _ into plus specific shit I’m into that’s  _ not _ standard. How ‘bout that?”

“Sure. But before you do that, I think you should know one of my kinks is  _ literally _ listening to people talking about kinks.”

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. “Of fucking course it is!”

Steve just smiles wider. 

“You’re a brat. I can already tell.” 

Steve just flicks his eyebrows up quickly. It’s a silent challenge and Bucky’s already excited about taming this man. 

“I’m into choking and breath control, conditioning, fear play, urethra play, punishment and reward play, celibacy–”

“Celibacy?” 

Bucky just smiles darkly, his heart skipping a beat in his chest. Steve just continues to raise one brow at him. 

“Cock cages or belts. If you’re okay with it, basically you wear it for a certain amount of time and there’s no sexual gratification. Can it be your turn yet? I’m stressing myself out.” 

“You’ve never told me what you’re not into.” 

“Infantilism, skat, waterworks– though I’m entirely okay with you holding it in, just don’t pee it out on me.”

Steve snorts. 

“Seriously! I’m scarred for life from that shit.” 

“Oh my God,” Steve giggles. “You’ve got an interesting life Bucky Barnes.” 

“Not into rape play, abduction play, substance play, gun or blood play. But if you start bleeding, that’s fine. I’m just not gonna sit there and revel in it. Food fetishes also kind of rub me the wrong way. I love food, I just don’t want it in my sex. Uh, pony play isn’t my thing. Though I’m entirely okay with giving you piggyback rides.” He laughs at himself. “Your turn.” 

“Your hard no’s are the same as mine. But I’m also severely against crossdressing for humiliation. Women’s clothing shouldn’t be looked down upon. That’s just putting them down and I don’t fly like that. But booty shorts are perfectly fine.”

“Respectful.” Bucky smiles.

“And no live shit going in me either. Like worms or stuff. I saw that in a porno once and I wanted to cry.”

“Oh God!” Bucky exclaims. “Yeah, no. Yeah okay no. I agree.” 

“I still can’t get over that we’re doin’ this.” 

“But it’s okay, right? Like you want this?” Bucky holds his breath in anticipation.

“Yeah,” Steve replies quickly. “It’s just– I dunno. Kinda fantastical. I mean, I pictured you fuckin’ me in a courtroom. If only that could happen.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. He runs his fingers through his hair, keeping the strands tucked back. Steve may seem like the good boy you take home to mama, but he’s anything but. 

“Don’t cross that out just yet,” Bucky says. “No one’s ever in a courtroom after six.” He winks at Steve. Steve goes red in the face again. “Wanna tell me your safe words?” 

“I’ve always used ‘eagle’ for the safe word. But I use ‘green, yellow and red’ too when you need me to check in during a scene.” 

“So what’ve you used already?” 

“Bondage, whips, a riding crop.  _ That _ was exciting. Humiliation. Animal play, obviously. I was in a cage eating dog food. But I don’t wanna do that again. I mean, the cage part. I’m fine with roleplay. Some age play. Peggy’s really into me acting like a kid. Not like– infant. Just childish. Uh, orgasm denial, edging, exhaustion kink. Stuff like that.” 

Bucky nods. 

“What’re your rules?” Steve inquires, tilting his head.

“Are you good with everything I said? I’ll always ask you before we try new things too.”

“Nothing sounds too scary yet,” Steve answers. “Maybe the fear play’s a little alarming, but I’ll try it if you start easy.”

“Absolutely. I wouldn’t throw that on you right now anyway. Right now, I just wanna get to know you like that. No rules yet. One day though. I’m way too into authority kink.”

Steve makes this sound in his throat; it’s deep and vibrates almost like a cat purring. Bucky’s mouth drops open unintelligently. 

“I’m  _ really _ into pet names,” Bucky breathes out. “And I think I just found yours.” 

Steve cocks a brow.

“Kitten.”

* * *

When Bucky gets out of the shower, Steve’s all bundled up on the sofa. He’s in several blankets all wrapped around him with his blond head poking out at the top. He winces as something particularly crunchy happens on the TV. 

Bucky turns to see a violent scene in a horror movie onscreen. He then turns to look back at Steve’s squirming form. 

“You like horror movies?” he asks. 

“I like the adrenaline rush,” Steve answers. “But I’ll probably have nightmares– Oh shit! That’s disgusting!” 

Bucky turns back to the screen to see intestines spilling from a screaming man’s form as zombies start tearing at his muscles. He winces, clearing his throat. He’s not really one for zombie films. Bucky’s always preferred the more out-there horror films. The ones where you leave the theater wondering if you were just mindfucked or someone pulled a terrible gag joke on you. Those are always a good time. 

Bucky stands before the couch, gesturing with his hands for Steve to lift up his legs so he can sit beneath them.

Steve just smiles, lifting his legs up like a drawbridge before plopping them back down on Bucky. 

Bucky has no intentions of watching this movie. His gaze is glued to Steve, mesmerized by his little nose scrunches or how his brows shoot up his face when something exciting happens onscreen. He moves his hands under the countless blankets to find Steve’s legs. He wraps his hand around an ankle, just holding it there. Steve doesn’t even acknowledge it. 

Bucky doesn’t like to rush into anything in a scene with a new sub. He likes to figure out their bodies first. He plays with their comfort zones, gets them to really understand that he’s not there to hurt them. At least, not in an actual sense. He’s always down for a good riding crop scene with a whimpering sub. It’s not pain to them. Bucky would  _ never _ outright hurt anyone. He’s more of a slave to his sub than a sub is ever a slave to him. Everything he does, he does for them. 

Steve wiggles his legs, pushing his toes into Bucky’s hip. Bucky pretends to be interested in the movie, but he’s more interested in the ridiculously high arches of Steve’s feet. He traces the rough padding with his thumb. His heart is dancing in his chest, singing out to his nerves and making his spine shiver. He never thought he’d get this far with Steve. He’d resigned himself to fantasies and lamenting. But here they are, sitting on a couch watching a movie about zombies with Bucky’s thumb tracing Steve’s arches. 

“That tickles,” Steve mentions distantly, his gaze still on the movie. He ducks his nose beneath the covers when another gruesome scene occurs. 

“Is it okay?” Bucky asks gently. 

“Mhmm,” Steve hums. He scoots a little down on the couch, pressing his other foot into Bucky’s lap. 

Bucky takes that as a hint and starts running his fingers along Steve’s other arch. 

Steve looks like he’s melting into the sofa. His eyes are fluttering and he’s breathing a little heavier. When he starts moving his hips, Bucky moves one hand away from Steve’s feet and starts to trace the curve of his calf, nice and slow. 

Steve exhales loudly, like he’s abandoning the cruel realities around him and giving into that simple touch. 

Bucky smiles a wolfish grin. This boy’s already his. 

“You like that, Kitten?” Bucky asks, his voice velvety smooth. He reaches the dip of Steve’s knee and circles his thumb there. Steve arches his back, pushing his hips forward. 

“Uh-huh.” 

Bucky brings his hand back down, running it along the curve of Steve’s calf before tracing it all the way down Steve’s feet and to his toes.

Steve starts giggling. 

Bucky smiles, pulling one of Steve’s feet better into his lap. He starts massaging at the heel before working his way up to the toes.

“Oh God,” Steve whispers. “I…okay.” 

“I just wanna figure your body out,” Bucky explains. “I’ll start slow with you. Testing your limits in easy ways before really workin’ you up.” 

Steve pushes his head into the pillow. He doesn’t seem to care that the credits have been rolling for the past five minutes. 

“You’re already workin’ me up,” Steve responds, his voice hazy and distant. 

“Nnn, this is different.” 

“W-what’re you searchin’ for?” Steve asks, spreading his toes apart. Bucky massages each one individually. 

“Sensitivity,” Bucky answers. 

“You coulda just asked,” Steve answers. He laughs when Bucky traces his nails against the sole of his foot. “Ah! St-stop that tickles!” 

“Color,” Bucky asks, pausing.

“Green,” Steve replies, looking at Bucky with round, lust-filled eyes. 

Bucky smirks, going back to tracing his nails along Steve’s foot, pulling giggles and little squirms out of the man. Never once does Steve try to jerk away. 

“If I asked you how sensitive you are, I’d just get an opinion. I like facts. Facts win or lose cases,” Bucky reasons. He pinches one of Steve’s toes and the man moans. 

“S-such an attorney,” Steve mumbles breathily. 

“Mhm,” Bucky agrees, moving to the other foot. He repeats the same motions, testing out Steve’s arches with his nails and then ebbing the tickling away with kneading. He massages around Steve’s ankles, listening to the man sigh as he slowly turns into goo. He’s absolutely sensitive here. Bucky wants to keep exploring. “Can you stand up?” 

Steve’s eyes open, his pupils swallowing up the pretty blue of his eyes. He nods, his precious mouth hanging open. 

Steve moves to stand up, but he sways and Bucky’s up in an instant, catching him and pulling him against his chest. He wraps his arms around Steve’s torso, pulling him against him. He pushes his nose along Steve’s neck. Steve goes pliant in his grip, sinking bonelessly into Bucky.

“Please,” Steve whispers. He rocks his hips back into Bucky’s crotch.

“Shh.” Bucky strokes along Steve’s jaw, still using his nose to trace the curve of Steve’s neck. “I gotcha.” 

Steve lets his head drop forward, his shoulders slumping and he’s impossibly small in Bucky’s grasp. He’s light despite how big his muscles are. He’s effortless to move, like bodies cutting through water. Bucky takes a step back and Steve comes with him, his muscles practically wired into Bucky’s brain.  

“You okay?” Bucky asks. He doesn’t dare raise his voice above a gentle whisper. 

Steve just grunts out what sounds like an affirmation, but Bucky needs more than that.

“Steve,” he says, his voice a little more curt. 

“Yes Sir,” Steve answers, his voice stronger this time.

“Good boy.” Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, letting the man drop his head back against his shoulder. He scratches gently around the curve of Steve’s ear, traces along his hairline down his neck and up to his forehead. 

“Oh God,” Steve gasps. “More please, Sir.” 

“I gotcha,” Bucky responds. “Told you I need to gather up all the facts.” 

Steve makes a little sound that Bucky’s pretty sure is supposed to be a laugh. 

“Can you walk?” Bucky asks. He wants to press his lips to Steve’s neck. He knows the man’s good and ready for it. But not yet. He wants this scene to crack open every nerve in Steve’s body and overflow his senses with as much gentle stimulation as he can. It’s always so pretty, breaking down a sub like this. It’s quiet and easy but so important for their bond. It’s all about trust. Bucky can’t do anything until he knows Steve really trusts him like this. So he goes slowly, takes his time running his fingers up and down Steve’s arms now, rocking the man steadily. 

“I dunno,” Steve answers honestly. 

“That’s okay.” Bucky moves to gather up Steve’s body. He lifts the man bridal style and watches Steve’s head fall back. “You doin’ okay?”

“Mhm.” 

“You okay with being in my bed?” 

“You gonna touch me, Sir?”  Steve asks dreamily. 

Bucky rolls his eyes, walking toward the bedroom. “I’ve been touchin’ you, Kitten.” 

Steve squirms a little, trying to shake his cute little ass. Bucky can’t wait to finally see it. He wants to nip at its soft cheeks and lap at that pretty little hole he knows Steve’s got. 

“I mean like…more. Like more,” Steve keeps blabbering. 

“Shh, Kitten,” Bucky says as he gently places Steve on the bed. “I’m gonna take your clothes off, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve whispers. 

“Color?”

“Green. Touch me, Sir,  _ please _ .” 

Bucky starts at Steve’s sweats, pulling the band down and smiling at the straining fabric over Steve’s hard cock. He’s big and thick. He’d make someone pretty happy with that drilling into their body, but Bucky’s not one for receiving when he loves giving so much. He’s not against the idea. He just loves taking care of others before himself. It’s always been one of his little character flaws. He  _ did _ take a high-profile murder case pro bono after all. 

Steve, his little Kitten, with stained blood on his fingers that’ll never wash off. A blackened soul that’ll torment him for all his days. All Bucky wants to do is give this man any reprieve he can find so that Steve keeps  _ living _ . It’s easy to give up when the world’s turned its back on you. Bucky doesn’t want to see Steve give up. 

He gently takes Steve’s sweatpants off, discarding them on the floor. He straddles Steve at the thigh, running his fingers beneath the band of Steve’s briefs. 

“Please,” Steve whimpers. “Please, please.” 

“We’ve got all night, Kitten,” Bucky consoles, running his fingers back and forth along the band. He lets his nails trail along the skin, proud when he feels the muscles involuntarily jerk away. 

Steve just slams his head into the pillows with a broken release of air. 

Bucky trails his hands along the curve of Steve’s thighs, feeling the powerful muscle trembling beneath him. His technique isn’t always so slow and gentle. Most of the time, it’s anything but. But this is a trust-building scene, and Bucky’s not going to budge on how important it is between them. Steve can beg and plead all he wants, but Bucky won’t do anything faster than this. 

It also doesn’t hurt that Steve’s venturing into a touch-starved frenzy at the delicate touches, the lack of kisses or reprieve on his cock. 

Bucky shimmies down Steve’s legs, settling right beneath his knees. He’s not pressing his weight down. He doesn’t want to obstruct blood flow to the feet and he doesn’t want to bruise Steve’s shins. He’s not really even sure how easy of a bruiser Steve is. 

“You want music?” Bucky asks, spreading his fingers along the thickest part of Steve’s thighs and digging them in a little.

Steve moans, arching his back off the bed. “I want you, Sir.” 

Bucky clicks his tongue. He brings his fingers beneath the hem of Steve’s shirt and traces along the Adonis lines of his stomach. He usually likes listening to music, but right now it’s probably best that they just listen to each other.

Steve purrs like the little kitten he is, arching into Bucky’s hands and trying to brush his cock against Bucky’s forearm.

Bucky pulls back, snapping the waistband against Steve’s skin.

Steve yelps.

“Don’t do that, Kitten,” Bucky instructs adoringly. “We’re not here to touch that yet.” 

“Oh God,” Steve sobs, bringing an arm to sling over his eyes. 

Bucky considers restraints for a second until he remembers what his endgame is for this scene. He can’t restrain Steve when he wants the man to reach out and touch him eventually. 

He moves his hands up Steve’s abs, swirling his fingers around the navel. He crawls up Steve’s body, brushing his nose against the line of Steve’s abs through the shirt. 

Steve just sobs again. He’s got one hand fisted into a pillow and the other is now wrapping into his hair and squeezing. 

“You can touch me,” Bucky says softly. “I’m not gonna hold your hands back.” 

Steve hiccups, nodding, but he doesn’t move his trembling limbs toward Bucky.

Bucky’s not discouraged. Steve’s too busy short-circuiting from the little touches Bucky’s giving him. 

Bucky was lucky when he met Natasha Romanov, his mentor and intro to all things BDSM– though they are now best friends. They were in undergrad. She taught Bucky this technique. And of course, to teach was to demonstrate. Bucky knows what Steve is feeling right now. It’s like shards of glass against his skin, but glass that is cool yet explosive. It doesn’t hurt, but it isn’t soothing or comforting at this point. It’s an intensity that pulls you to the person above you but something keeps you back. You want more, but you want it to end and for them to just crash their body atop yours and wrap you in kisses and embraces. Bucky cried harder than he’d ever cried before.

Steve’s faring a lot better. 

Bucky lifts Steve’s shirt over his head, exposing his taut abs and those delicious pink nipples. His chest is flushed the prettiest shade of red Bucky’s ever seen. He wants to kiss it, but he can’t– not yet. He trails his fingers along the edges of Steve’s pecs, listening to the broken sobs from the man squirming beneath him. His touches are light, not like the massages he gave Steve’s feet earlier. He brushes over one of Steve’s nipples and the man lurches up, yelping.

“Color,” Bucky says urgently, pulling his fingers back.

“G-green, green, green!” Steve sobs out, gasping for air. “Holy fuck…” 

“Shh,” Bucky soothes, pushing Steve back to the bed. “It’s okay, Kitten. It’s all okay.” Bucky cups Steve’s face, stroking a thumb over the tear tracks. 

Steve sobs, but he leans into Bucky’s hand and nods. He pushes his head back into the pillow and swallows roughly. 

Bucky trails his fingers along Steve’s jaw before slipping over Steve’s  _ extremely _ sensitive nipples. Good to know… Bucky definitely files that away for later. 

Steve reaches out and grabs Bucky’s hand. His grip is trembling and he’s gasping for breath. He’s staring at Bucky with a haze-filled expression, his tongue tracing along his teeth. 

Bucky slowly circles his finger around Steve’s nipple. He lets his nail dip against it and Steve releases a broken, long sob. He arches himself off the bed, even lifting Bucky up for a moment before crashing back down. 

“S-sir,” Steve gasps. “M’gonna come if you do that…”

Bucky smiles, looking over his back at Steve’s briefs. They’re soaked against the tip of Steve’s straining cock. He turns back around, pulling his finger back.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers, bringing both hands along to trace the edges of Steve’s jaw. “I’ll hold back from there for now.” 

Steve’s trembling so hard that Bucky’s body is vibrating from it, his own cock hard and pressed against the seam of his jeans. Each little tremble sends jolts of pleasure into Bucky’s core. He wants to rock down into Steve but this isn’t about him. It’s about what he can  _ do _ for Steve, and he’s going to prove that point so clear– like the sun in the sky. 

Bucky trails his fingers up Steve’s face, getting the man to close his eyes. He brushes his fingers over those long lashes, watching Steve’s lids crinkle as he squeezes his eyes closed. He trails one hand down to Steve’s neck, just gripping it softly.

Steve gasps, his mouth dropping open as he elongates his neck. 

“Sir…p-please,” Steve begs. 

Bucky can feel Steve’s adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. He traces one finger down the bridge of Steve’s nose and then over the man’s lips. 

Steve flicks his tongue out, trying to catch Bucky’s finger but Bucky pulls away. He gives the tiniest little squeeze to Steve’s neck and the man goes still and pliant beneath him. 

“I’m gonna take your underwear off, okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” Steve replies eagerly. He gasps as a few more sobs wreck through his body, heaving his chest. He brings his hands up to the pillows and clutches into them tightly. 

Bucky’s never seen such a prettier display of human form. Broad shoulders, flushed skin, pink pretty nipples, abs that quiver and shake but don’t hide the strength they possess and a cock that could get the most prude of people to lick their lips. 

And he’s all Bucky’s… 

Bucky slips his hands beneath the waistband and tugs slowly. He lets the fabric pull along Steve’s cock. It makes Steve whimper and push up, but Bucky pushes one hand beneath Steve’s navel to hold him against the bed. Steve obeys. 

Steve’s drooling cock springs free, purple at the tip and flushed red along the base. It’s so pretty Bucky could give it tiny little kisses. Maybe eventually, but not now. 

“I’m gonna make you come,” Bucky says. “Over and over until I get a feel for how sensitive you are, is that okay?” 

Steve nods enthusiastically, trying his best to arch off the bed, but Bucky’s still holding him down.

“Use your words, Kitten,” Bucky instructs. “I’m gonna use a toy, not me.”

There’s a small whine in the back of Steve’s throat and he squirms beneath Bucky for a moment, but he relaxes back into the bed. He takes a few deep breaths, his limbs finally calming from their violent shaking. 

“Yes Sir,” he finally says. “What toy?”

“Prostate stimulator,” Bucky answers simply. He rolls off of Steve and the bed and goes over to his dresser. The top drawer is full of Bucky’s personal favorite toys. He pulls out the long p-stimulator and turns it on for a second to make sure the batteries are working. It hums to life in his hands, sending the vibrations down into his wrists. He turns to look over his shoulder, showing off the toy to Steve. 

“Green,” Steve breathes out, unprompted.

“Good boy.” Bucky smirks, coming back to the bed and crawling on. “We’re gonna lie differently, okay?” 

Steve nods, his gaze focused on the large stimulator in Bucky’s hands. He’s so damn eager it’s almost laughable. Bucky wonders when the last time Steve had this. He can’t imagine it having been after the incident. It’s probably been a while and maybe even longer since Steve’s been in a scene. Bucky strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair, pushing his nose along the soft strands and breathing in. Steve smells like his shampoo and that sends an animalistic growl from Bucky’s throat. 

Steve moans, reaching up and grabbing the back of Bucky’s head. He wraps his fingers into Bucky’s hair and tugs lightly. 

Bucky groans. He wants to nip this man’s ear, whisper how much he’s going to defile him and get him sobbing from the amount of times he’s going to work him over, but this scene doesn’t get to be like that. It’s soft and gentle. It’s all for Steve and nothing for Bucky. So Bucky pulls back, gently prying Steve’s fingers from his hair. 

“Hold on, Kitten,” Bucky says over a whine from Steve at the loss of contact. “I’ve got you.” 

Steve nods, licking his lips.

Bucky settles next to Steve before pulling the man’s back to his chest. He brushes his nose against Steve’s neck, earning a hiss from the blond. Steve pushes his ass into Bucky’s crotch, rubbing it against him.

“No, Kitten,” Bucky says, grabbing Steve’s hip. “Put one leg up.” 

Steve listens. He lets one foot slide up the bed so he’s got one leg bent and the other resting parallel to Bucky’s legs. 

Bucky reaches over Steve, pulling open the nightstand drawer and grabbing out a bottle of lube. 

“Sir?” 

“Hmm?” Bucky’s focused on squirting out some of the lube onto his fingers. He’s not going to work Steve all the way open– he knows this man can take a little pain. It’d probably be good after all the gentle stimulation anyway. But he can’t shove a toy into him without anything. 

“Why haven’t you kissed me?”

Bucky smirks. He pulls Steve back to him, letting the stimulator press against Steve’s chest. He works his other hand between Steve’s ass cheeks and swirls two fingers around his hole.

“Ah! Oh God!” Steve gasps, pushing back on Bucky’s fingers. 

Bucky dips his finger inside, swirling it slowly. He uses his thumb over Steve’s chest to idly flick at one of Steve’s nipples.

Steve yelps out, pushing his ass against Bucky’s finger and grinding against him. 

“Because you haven’t kissed me,” Bucky finally answers. 

“I’m allowed to?” 

Bucky slips in another finger, watching Steve’s eyes flutter shut. He hums approvingly, rocking his hips back and forth with Bucky’s fingers softly pumping into him. 

“I told you that you could touch me.” 

“I…ah…ah! I didn’t know–” He swallows loudly. “I didn’t know that counted.” 

Bucky wants to kiss his shoulder. It’s right in front of his face, bare and flushed. He could nip at the tiny little bone protruding from it. He knows Steve would let him. 

“It counts,” Bucky says instead. “I wanna kiss you.” He twists his fingers and Steve arches his back, dropping his head against Bucky’s shoulder. 

“W-why don’t you?” Steve hisses out. 

“Because I’m testing your limits.” 

Steve makes a sound like a laugh and a gasp all at once. He pushes down on Bucky’s fingers, his walls clenching around Bucky as he thrusts in and out. 

“So you can kiss me whenever you’ve reached your limit of holdin’ out on it,” Bucky explains. “I’m gonna make you come over and over until you tell me to stop with your safe word.”

“Oh… _ Jesus _ ,” Steve gasps. “I thought you were gentle.” 

Bucky just smirks wickedly. “Anything but, Kitten.”

Steve turns his neck. He pushes his nose into Bucky’s before slotting their lips together. He’s warm, slick and sweet. He hums into the kiss, nibbling softly on Bucky’s bottom lip. 

Bucky lets him control the kiss, focusing instead on his fingers inside Steve’s ass, spreading them and pumping them a few more times. He pulls out, earning a little whimper as he tosses the prostate stimulator into his free hand. He’s still kissing Steve, fumbling around for the lube on the bed and making a little sound when he finally finds it.

Steve’s rolling his body back against Bucky, reaching back and cupping Bucky’s head. For all his muscle, he’s just soft. His kisses are soft. His hands are soft. Even his muscles are like warm butter in the sun. His heart’s soft… too soft. That’s how he got himself into this mess in the first place. He’s a goddamned piece of art and Bucky’s a sinful person for being so happy he found Steve– even if it was in the worst circumstance imaginable. He’s not going to give up on Steve. He’ll fight every appeal and go all the way up to the US Supreme Court if he has to. He’s not going to fail this man. 

He manages to slick up the stimulator with one hand, his other one idly pinching at Steve’s nipple as he holds Steve flush to his torso. He brings the stimulator down to Steve’s ass and Steve pulls one of his cheeks away to let it slip in easier. 

Steve gasps as the stimulator breaches into him. He sucks at Bucky’s bottom lip, humming and whimpering against Bucky’s lips. His fingers are coiling into Bucky’s hair and pulling just barely, but enough that Bucky feels the energy flowing from them, like a never-ending circle, around and around. 

Bucky pushes the stimulator further in before pulling it back out to the rim.

Steve whines into Bucky’s mouth, pushing his ass back to pull the stimulator back inside him. Bucky obliges his needy little kitten, letting the stimulator slip inside and find its place naturally. Bucky flicks the switch and the instrument hums to life.

Steve’s body tenses. He pulls away from the kiss and brings his chin down to the top of his sternum. A sob rips from his throat and he’s rocking back against Bucky’s body, pushing the stimulator against his prostate rhythmically. 

“That’s it, Kitten,” Bucky praises, now free to kiss at Steve’s ear. He takes it between his teeth, gently clamping down before kissing at the lobe. “You don’t have to ask me to come. You just come, okay?” 

“Guh…yeah…fuck…” Steve pants, rocking back on the stimulator. “Fuck…Sir…fuck…fuck…”

“Shh,” Bucky soothes, circling one of Steve’s nipples again. Steve whines out into the air, loud and pitchy. He slams his shoulders into Bucky’s chest, pushing his face into the pillow and howling into it. It’s muffled, but Bucky knows this man’s a screamer. He’s absolutely thrilled by that prospect. 

“No no no no,” Steve rushes out, his body trembling and seizing in Bucky’s hold. 

“It’s okay,” Bucky says quietly, nuzzling against Steve’s neck. “Give in baby.” 

Steve comes for the first time, his body jerking roughly but Bucky keeps him held firm against him. Steve pulls at Bucky’s hair, gasping loudly and sobbing. 

“That’s one,” Bucky whispers, licking at Steve’s earlobe. “You gonna tap out, or do you got more for me?”

Steve clenches his jaw, breathing raggedly. He grinds his ass back against the stimulator. That’s all the answer Bucky needs right now. He’ll start asking for colors after the second orgasm. 

Bucky managed to make it to four orgasms before he was safe wording out when he’d done this with Nat. He’s pretty sure Steve’s resolve is stronger than his. 

Steve whines; it’s loud and broken. His body’s trembling as it’s pushing back and forth into Bucky. His shaking hands are clutching at Bucky’s forearm like his life depends on it. Bucky loves listening to his little strangled breaths, the whines and gasps when he pushes the stimulator just a  _ tiny _ bit further inside him. 

“Oh…oh God…n-no!” Steve mewls as he comes again. He pushes his head back into Bucky, his body trying to jerk away from the sensation but Bucky ruthlessly surges the stimulator forward with him.

Steve’s legs are clamping down on the bed. Bucky doesn’t need them open anymore anyway. The stimulator’s now stuck between Steve’s cheeks, pushed home and milking Steve for all he’s got. 

Bucky just kisses the back of Steve’s neck, over and over. He lets his tongue trace along the pulse point, feeling the thrumming of Steve’s heartbeat beneath the skin. Steve’s trembling has subsided, his breathing ragged but coming back stronger. 

“Color?” Bucky asks.

“Green,” Steve grits out. 

“Thadda boy,” Bucky praises, kissing Steve’s jaw. He rocks his body against Steve’s, pushing the stimulator back and forth in Steve. 

Steve hisses, rolling his head as he’s desperately clutching at Bucky’s hair still. He turns his face and presses his lips to Bucky’s again. It’s an urgent kiss, salty with tears and hot as Steve breathes against Bucky’s face.

Bucky laps into Steve’s mouth, caressing his tongue over Steve’s. He’s not usually one for such tongue-filled kisses but Steve’s a drug Bucky never thought he wanted to try until he was already addicted. Maybe it’s because this is so wrong; that’s why Bucky’s enjoying it so much more. This is his  _ client _ . His  _ client _ that’s on trial for  _ murder _ . Steve, the pretty little lamb in lion’s clothing. The literal being of Lenny from  _ Of Mice and Men _ . He’s clutching onto Bucky with an intensity that reminds Bucky of a dying man clinging to the last few seconds of life. 

Bucky holds onto him, splaying his fingers and letting his hand stroke along those defined pectoral muscles and pinch and twist at erect nipples.

Steve whines into Bucky’s mouth, pushing his chest into Bucky’s hand, rubbing his nipples against the man’s palm. He’s still kissing Bucky, craning his neck and pushing his lips against Bucky’s so roughly that Bucky can feel the bristles of stubble beneath the surface of the man’s skin. 

“S-sir,” Steve gasps, tears streaming from his eyes. “I can’t– I can’t–”

“Really? You’ve only had two,” Bucky replies like he’s disappointed. He wouldn’t be. If Steve wanted them to stop, he’d stop and he wouldn’t think of Steve as weak. He’s not weak. He’s facing a murder trial, facing the abandonment of people he thought were friends and the judgement of the world. He’s struggling under the weight, but he’s nothing close to weak.

Bucky starts to give quick little thrusts with the stimulator. Steve’s rolling his head back, moaning loudly as he lets his face fall into the pillow. He turns into it and screams. Bucky doesn’t stop his ministrations, just keeps assaulting Steve’s body with ruthless precision. 

Steve’s body starts to jerk again, desperate to pull away from Bucky but powerless to do so. He comes again– streams of white still spewing from his cock and wetting the bed sheets. He’s turning his face into the pillow again and screaming so loudly that Bucky’s not sure the pillow is even muffling it anymore. 

“Color,” Bucky lilts, nudging his nose against Steve’s shoulder.

“Green,” Steve muffles into the pillow. “Fuck you…green…” 

Bucky kisses Steve’s neck. “That’s it, baby. Three down, how many more to go?” 

Steve’s convulsing constantly now, a sheen of sweat sparkling off his flushed body.  He’s crying consistently, broken sobs quaking his body and pulling and pushing at the stimulator. His cock is completely flaccid but Bucky knows from experience that doesn’t mean a damn thing sometimes, especially with bottoms. It’s still twitching and flushed red. 

Steve starts circling his hips back, moaning and biting his lip as he gets pleasure out of the stimulator instead of the overwhelming intensity of overstimulation. Bucky’s honestly impressed at how his body’s able to accommodate. It means Bucky can push him harder… He’d be good on a Saint Andrew’s Cross or the bondage horses. And he said he liked flogging. 

Bucky starts to jerk the stimulator back and forth again, pushing and pulling the thing between Steve’s asscheeks. It hums rhythmically, the vibrations creating its own music. 

“I– I…ho’shit…” Steve gasps. “I’m gonna die…”

“Color?” Bucky asks, checking in. He’s trained to know that certain questions definitely should be used during scenes. ‘Do you want more or less stimulation,’ ‘Is this good for you?’ But Bucky prefers the color system with gentler scenes. It’s easier for Steve and it’s easier for Bucky to get a read on what signs to look out for if Steve gets overworked or something starts to go wrong. It’s all about safety and Bucky’s no fucking idiot. 

“Green.”

“You sure?” Bucky asks, kissing Steve’s shoulder. “Don’t push yourself. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You’re not,” Steve whispers, turning his spine to kiss Bucky. He brings his hand up to cup Bucky’s cheek, letting his thumb trace along the rough stubble on Bucky’s face. They rock into each other, Bucky pushing forward, his cock straining and completely upset it’s being ignored. Steve’s body is pushing back, swallowing the stimulator up to the tips of Bucky’s fingers. Bucky almost wants to try deep anal penetration on this man but he’s getting ahead of himself. He also completely forgot to mention he’s totally into shoving his arm up people’s asses. He can always ask later. 

Steve gasps, stringing a slew of curses together that all bleed into one as he comes again. He crumbles in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest as he comes with clear liquid that’s just dribbling down his hip and onto the bed. He kicks out a leg, crying and turning his face into his arm.

“Color,” Bucky requests. He’s kissing Steve’s back, over and over.

Steve’s gasping like a fish out of water, his chest heaving and flushing deep red. 

Bucky switches the stimulator off, his eyes widening. He’s about to pull the thing out when Steve’s hand circles his wrist.

“Don’t stop, Sir,” Steve husks out. “M’not done. And that’s four.” 

Bucky presses a kiss to Steve’s jaw, switching the stimulator back on. He’s offering more comfort now that Steve seems to be visibly straining against the overstimulation. He’s still crying freely and Bucky’s pretty sure he’s going to watch this man guzzle down at least three bottles of water after this. Bucky focuses less on the stimulator and more on Steve’s body. He’s brushing his fingers over Steve’s abs, nuzzling his nose along the lines of Steve’s shoulder blades. 

“You’re doin’ so good,” Bucky praises, kissing along Steve’s neck. “So good, Kitten.” 

Steve moans in response, pushing back against the stimulator and rubbing the side of his ass up and down against Bucky’s cock. “Want you…” 

Bucky shakes his head, pressing another kiss to Steve’s jaw. They’re not here for that. In fact, Bucky’s all about torturing and that’s just part of the game. He’ll flaunt his cock, tease Steve with it but he won’t be giving it to him for a damn good amount of time. If Steve needs something to focus on besides the trial, he’ll focus on an ever-growing thirst for Bucky’s cock. Bucky’s pretty good at being an ultimate tease. 

Steve comes again, breaking Bucky’s own record… and then again about five minutes after. And then again twenty minutes after that. Seven. Bucky knew Steve wasn’t weak. He’s also extremely stubborn and Bucky’s seriously worried that Steve won’t use his safe word. But that’s also part of why Bucky’s doing this. He needs to know if Steve’s too proud to even use it. If so, Bucky has to always go a little bit more careful than he does with say, Clint, who’s not afraid of using his safe word when things get too intense for him. The whole point of this is discovery and trust. He’s trusting Steve to tell him when he’s reached his limits and Steve’s trusting Bucky in all the beautiful ways a sub does. Bucky’s has to know when to call it quits, even if Steve doesn’t outright say it. That’s part of this trust they’re building. 

“E-eagle,” Steve grits out, pushing his face into the pillow.

Bucky beams, his heart filling with so much pride it almost doesn’t have room for blood. Bucky switches off the stimulator. He doesn’t pull it out right away. He’s kissing Steve all over, the side of his face, down his jaw, over his neck and along his shoulders. 

“You did so well, Kitten,” Bucky coos. “So fuckin’ good for me.” 

Steve’s shivering, his knees pulled up to his chest. His arms are wrapped around them. He pulls one hand away, holding it out in the air– it’s a silent request and Bucky’s heart melts at it. Steve wants him to hold his hand. 

Bucky takes it, lacing their fingers together tightly. He’s kissing and nuzzling at Steve’s neck, murmuring praise after praise. Slowly,  _ slowly _ he takes the stimulator out of Steve.

Steve gasps, his body tensing and squeezing Bucky’s hand harder.

Bucky gets the stimulator out and lets it drop against the bedsheets. He’s changing them before bed anyway. 

“Shh,” Bucky consoles. “You’re okay. You’re okay. Jesus, Steve– you did so fuckin’ good.” 

Steve just squeezes Bucky’s hand, silently crying. 

Bucky pulls Steve into him. The man shifts pliantly, his quivering muscles quickly dropping like dead weight against Bucky’s form. Bucky tucks Steve’s head under his chin and uses a hand to stroke up and down Steve’s back. He hums a soft tune, a mix between a Bob Dylan and a Tom Petty song. He’s not really sure why but it’s soft and soothing and Steve seems to like it.

Steve nuzzles his face into Bucky’s clothed chest, his naked form sinking both of them into the mattress more. 

“I’m glad you’re not a macho sub,” Bucky finally says after the minutes of silence have calmed both of them down. 

“Hm?” Steve hums.

“A sub that refuses safe words. Seriously, did you have a mentor?” Bucky laughs, kissing the top of Steve’s head.

“Sorta?” Steve answers hoarsely. He wipes at his eyes before dropping his face into Bucky’s sternum. “Peggy n’ Sharon aren’t really Doms in the conventional sense. We were all just experimenting.” 

“As long as it’s safe sane and consensual,” Bucky remarks.

“Always.” Steve groans, bringing his arms up and wrapping them around Bucky’s neck. “You think we’re movin’ too fast?” 

“I just gave you seven orgasms and now you consider whether we’re moving too fast?” Bucky kisses Steve’s nose. “We go at whatever pace you want.”

“I wanna keep goin’– Just, I didn’t wanna be like, I dunno. Like– shit I can’t think.” 

Bucky laughs, running his hand up and down the back of Steve’s neck. Steve purrs along with Bucky’s ministrations, nuzzling into Bucky’s chest again. 

“You don’t have to,” Bucky whispers. “We go as fast or as slow as you want. I’ve been interested in you since the day I met you. I’ll still be interested the day after your acquittal. And it will be an acquittal.” 

Steve snorts, but he moves to kiss Bucky’s chest. “Wish you were naked.” 

“You don’t get that yet.” 

“But you said we go as fast or slow as I want, and I want you to hurry it up and get naked.” Steve smiles, completely proud of himself. His eyes are still red-rimmed, his nose red and his face shiny with sweat– but he’s gorgeous. He’s so beautiful that Bucky can’t possibly understand how his mugshot ended up looking so wrong when this is almost how he looked in that picture. 

“You’re a brat,” Bucky comments, flicking Steve’s nose.

Steve’s eyes widen, a look of complete shock crosses onto his face.

Bucky laughs, lifting his head to press his lips to Steve’s, slow and gentle. They let their lips ebb and flow into each other. Quiet little smacking sounds echo softly into the room, mixed only with their soft breathing. 

“You feel okay enough for me to get you water?” Bucky asks, pressing a few chaste kisses to Steve’s lips. 

“And a pizza,” Steve answers. He’s a snarky little shit and Bucky’s absolutely smitten with it. 

“Pizza and water comin’ right up,” Bucky says as he gently moves Steve onto his back. “Wanna come back to the couch while I get these sheets into the wash? I’ll give you a massage while we wait for the pizza guy.”

“God,” Steve breathes. “You had me at ‘wanna.’”

Bucky pulls Steve into him, lifting him off the bed. Steve’s got his legs wrapped around his torso and hooked at the ankles, his arms around Bucky’s neck. He’s nuzzling his nose against Bucky’s, giggling like a child. Bucky can’t help but laugh too. It’s euphoric, the feeling they have now. The session was meant to bond them and that’s exactly what happened. Steve’s happy. He’s not thinking about his trial, even if Bucky’s still talking about it. He’s mentioning pizza and getting Bucky naked– not prison or how scared he is of his case. It’s the best reward Bucky could get as a Dom, to know his session worked.

He puts Steve on the couch and tosses all the blankets back atop him. He should’ve let Steve get into the bath or something– Bucky does have a Jacuzzi after all. But Steve doesn’t seem to mind he’s sweaty and has dried come on him, so Bucky’s not really going to care right now. He’s more interested in watching Steve come down from a scene.

“What pizza do you want, Kitten? You can get whatever you want for doin’ so good,” Bucky says. He’s pretty sure Steve didn’t really drop into any form of subspace for any extended period of time– he’s not even sure if he was flying, but regardless, Bucky’s going to make sure Steve knows how valued he is. Bucky’s a sucker for aftercare. It’s his absolute favorite part when he’s with a sub that he really sees an emotional connection with. He loves caring for Clint after, but it’s always playful and friendly– friends helping out friends. He wants to give Steve more. Wants to separate Clint’s experiences from Steve’s. He also needs to figure out if he should stop providing Clint services… 

That’s a subject for a different day. He’s not going to stress Steve out right now. That’s the absolute worst thing he could do. 

Steve curls up in his blankets, making himself into the cutest burrito Bucky’s ever seen. He’s all flushed pink and sleepy-looking. Bucky’s honestly surprised he’s hungry and not just ready to pass the fuck out after  _ seven _ orgasms. 

_ ‘He ain’t weak, Barnes.’ _

“Everything meat and terribly bad for me,” Steve replies, stretching inside his little burrito-build of blankets. 

Bucky taps at his phone distantly, selecting all the meat possible and getting extra cheese. His mouth’s watering from just looking at the pizza order. Once he’s finished, he plops his phone back on the counter and plugs in his charger. He moves back over to Steve, squeezing against the sofa and nestling himself beneath Steve’s head. 

Steve shimmies in his blankets up Bucky’s body and covers him with the blankets too. He presses his head back against Bucky’s shoulder. 

“You’re cute,” Bucky compliments. 

“You’re goddamned sexier than a fireman– all sweaty and covered in soot.” 

Bucky laughs, stroking Steve’s hair. 

“You’ve given firemen some thought, huh?”

“Oh  _ God _ yeah! I mean, firemen. With their suspenders and axes tossed over their shoulders? All slicked up in oil and…oh that feels  _ good _ .” 

Bucky chuckles deep in his chest. He’s massaging at Steve’s temples, bringing his thumbs down along Steve’s neck and working against the exhausted muscles. 

“Did you like what we did?” Bucky asks, going through his usual steps. He should’ve asked what kind of aftercare Steve likes, but Steve’s receptive so far. But that doesn’t mean Bucky gets to just assume. He’ll have to talk about it later. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies. His eyes are closed and he’s starting to have trouble keeping his head up. 

“Anything you didn’t like?” 

“You weren’t naked,” Steve lilts. 

“Besides that? Anything I did too much of or not enough?” 

Steve lets his head drop back. Bucky shifts his massaging from Steve’s head and neck to his shoulders. 

“You didn’t give me a full body massage,” Steve teases.

“Serious answer!” Bucky exclaims through a laugh. “I’m givin’ you that now anyway ya punk!”

Steve clicks his tongue, shifting his weight a bit to get down between Bucky’s legs instead of on top of them. 

“You made me use my safe word. Like, intentionally. I’m not upset about that, but hearing that was a little intimidating until I started to know what you were really doing to me.” 

Bucky nods, completely not offended. This is all part of what BDSM is about. Communication, working together, building each other up and paying attention to each other’s needs. This is exactly the feedback that he’s searching for. He can’t improve for Steve if he doesn’t know what to work on. 

“So you want me to explain it all out next time? Or only when I’m not gonna stop till you safe word out.” 

Steve leans forward, letting Bucky massage his lower back. He drops his head down and Bucky can see his spine start to poke out at the base of his neck. He wants to kiss those little bumps so badly, but he’s not sure if he should. At least, not when they’re having this kind of conversation. He needs to figure out what kind of relationship they’re even in. Does Steve just want Bucky for scenes, like is Steve just here for provisional submission? Or more? It’s all stuff Bucky needs ironed out before he knows how to behave correctly. 

“If we’re gonna push my limits, I need to know what you’re doing,” Steve explains. “If we’re just doin’ something I’m used to, then I don’t really care. But I do  _ need _ to know if you’re aiming for me to use my safe word. Which you did, so that’s good.” 

“Absolutely,” Bucky says. “Anything else you want me to improve on?” 

“Improve your massaging on my shoulders, you’re too focused on my back right now,” Steve responds playfully. He turns his head and offers a wink at Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he brings his hands back up to Steve’s shoulders. 

“Oh and improve on getting naked.”

“Steve Rogers, you’re a little shit,” Bucky concludes. 

Steve just grunts out an affirmation. 

They fall into silence. Bucky continues his ministrations, kneading and working into Steve’s muscles until they’re soft and warm beneath his fingers. He works down Steve’s arms, massaging around those beautiful biceps. Steve lets his head fall back onto Bucky’s shoulder. 

It isn’t till Bucky’s about ready to switch sides and work on Steve’s legs that he realizes he completely forgot to give Steve water. He curses inwardly. That’s Aftercare 101– get them a fucking bottle of water. The questions come after. 

“I forgot your water,” he admits, tapping Steve’s shoulder so he can get up.

“I noticed,” Steve remarks. “But it’s okay. I’m not dyin’ or nothin’.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m gettin’ you that bottle of water,” Bucky presses. He stands up, going back over to the fridge and grabbing out four bottles of water. He sets two of them on the coffee table and hands one over to Steve, cracking the top off first. He takes one for himself and gulps it down. “Those two are for you.” 

Steve smiles, gulping down his first bottle of water. It crackles and crumbles inward as he sucks all the water down. Bucky opens another bottle and hands it to Steve, taking the empty one from him. 

“Thanks,” Steve says. 

“Anytime.” 

Bucky goes to drop the empty bottle into the recycling and takes a moment to stare at his charging phone. He’s not sure whether to bring up what kind of relationship Steve wants or not. Especially after a scene, but he wants to. He’s so captivated by Steve that he’s stressing himself out. He wants to hoard this man away like a dragon hoards treasure. Protect him from the world. 

“What about you?” Steve suddenly asks.

Bucky cocks a brow at him.

“What did you like or not like about the scene?”

Bucky’s brows raise. He’s not used to a sub asking a Dom that. 

“Uh,” he answers intelligently. “I liked everything about it. You’re a beautiful submissive. But, I obviously need to work out how to handle you.” 

Steve laughs, rolling his eyes. He reaches for his third bottle of water. “You didn’t do anything outright wrong, Bucky. I really,  _ really _ enjoyed that. You were a lot different from what I’m used to.” 

“Well, that was just a tiny baby step. You may be runnin’ the other way eventually.” 

Steve shakes his head. “Nah. I’m kinda– well I’m really into you. And I know you wouldn’t hurt me. You’re doin’ more for me than I really have a right to ask for.”

“You never asked. I offered,” Bucky corrects, smirking. 

Steve smirks back before saying, “Yeah. I know. To think I almost didn’t let you take my case. God, where would I even be right now?”

“Probably still in a holding cell with a bunch of criminals.” 

Steve looks to his hands, running his thumb up and down his other one. His whole demeanor is changing. His pink skin flushing pale. The smile he’d been wearing is nowhere to be seen. Bucky worries that he’s crashing. 

“I look at my hands– and all I see are weapons,” Steve explains. “I don’t even remember doin’ it. I  _ actually _ blacked out. I thought– I thought that didn’t really happen. But, all I see are weapons now when I look at my hands.” 

“Steve,” Bucky breathes, going back over and kneeling before Steve. He grabs his hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. He’s not sure what kind of comfort he’s allowed to give. He doesn’t want to smother Steve, but he doesn’t want to accidently hurt him worse by letting him feel abandoned. “Your hands are not weapons. They’re hands.” 

“I killed people with them. Doesn’t that make them weapons?”

“Then a pen’s a weapon. A– a garden gnome or a toothbrush. I’ve been involved in cases where people have  _ intentionally _ killed others with those objects. A toothbrush isn’t a weapon, is it Steve?”

Steve shrugs. 

“Steve,” Bucky repeats, a desperation in his voice that makes him sound so much younger. “Look at me.” 

Steve looks up, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. 

“You are  _ not _ a weapon. You saved someone. You  _ saved _ someone. I will explain to you in the utmost amount of detail how your case is a clear-cut one for self-defense if you need me to. I’ll pull in references from other cases and show you other circuits that say the same thing. You are not a monster. You’re a hero.” 

“Then why’m I on trial? Heroes don’t get put on trial. They get awards.” 

Bucky shakes his head. His heart’s cracking within his chest. He didn’t think Steve would drop so quickly. He was reacting fine just minutes ago. Coming down from a scene is different for everyone, but Bucky didn’t expect a laughing, teasing Steve to start self-deprecating so soon after. 

“What do you need me to do, Kitten?” Bucky asks, squeezing Steve’s hands. 

“Hold me,” Steve says quietly. “Just hold me.” 

Bucky swings his body onto the couch, wrapping Steve up in his arms and kissing his head, over and over. He’s pulling the blankets up around Steve, tucking him in. Emotional aftercare. That’s Bucky’s guess on what Steve needs. Reassurance, soft kisses and pressure of another body against him. They’ll still have that talk, but Bucky’s pretty sure he’s got Steve nailed down for needing a lot more than what Clint does. 

“Your hands aren’t weapons,” Bucky whispers, kissing Steve’s neck. “Your hands are  _ absolutely not _ weapons.” He grabs one of Steve’s hands, stretching it out atop of his own and letting his fingers peek through between Steve’s. “They look just like mine.” 

Steve lets out a little breath through his nose. 

“See,” Bucky continues, wrapping his fingers between Steve’s. “They’re just like mine.” 

Steve nods, sniffing. 

Bucky grabs Steve’s other hand, lacing their fingers together. “What do my hands look like, Steve?”

Steve’s silent for a long beat. Bucky’s worried he’s gone off somewhere in his head where Bucky can’t follow. Steve heaves a heavy sigh, squeezing Bucky’s hand. 

“They look like yours,” Steve finally responds. 

“Yeah,” Bucky professes, relieved. “Just like mine. So when you look at your hands, what’re you gonna think?”

Conditioning. Honestly, if people realized the power of studying psych for BDSM purposes, Bucky’s pretty sure more people would be into psych. Bucky’s usually not one for conditioning a person without their consent, but this isn’t about the scene. This is about  _ Steve _ feeling worthless and vile when he’s anything but. He’s a sun that shined too brightly and the universe found a way to correct that. It’s a tragic shame, but here they are. That doesn’t mean Bucky has to sit here and let Steve wallow– not when he has the ability to help Steve. So he helps. Because that’s what an attorney does. Because that’s what a Dom does. And now he’s both for Steve. 

“I’m gonna think, that my hands look just like yours,” Steve answers. 

“And because they look like mine, what does that mean?” Bucky prods. 

“They’re not weapons.” 

“Good,” Bucky praises softly, kissing Steve’s cheek. “They’re just hands. Remember that.” 

The buzzer rings by the door. Pizza time. 

“You alright with me getting that?” Bucky asks.

“You alright with me eating the entire pizza?” Steve asks, his little smile returning on his face.

Bucky laughs, pressing another kiss to Steve’s cheek. He can’t stop. He can’t stop touching and kissing this man. He pulls himself up, walking over to the door and talking to the pizza delivery man to buzz him up and bypass the security men on the first floor. A few minutes later and there’s delicious smelling pizza with enough meat to send Bucky into cardiac arrest. He brings the pizza box over to the coffee table and goes back to the fridge to grab a few more waters for Steve. 

They eat mostly in silence– but the good kind. Comfortable silence filled with the occasional gleeful gasp and giggle. Bucky’s happy Steve’s mood seems better. He’s offering up little smirks to Bucky and he was  _ not _ kidding about eating the whole pizza. Bucky ends up eating one slice and leaves everything else for Steve to go to town on. 

He spends the rest of his time stealing little pieces of sausage off Steve’s pizza slices and pretending he was completely innocent despite being so vastly not. Each time Steve finishes off a piece of pizza, Bucky’s grabbing his pizza-greased hands and kissing them all over. Steve’s hands have become Bucky’s focus now. He’ll never do anything to them negatively in a scene. No smacking, taunting or degrading them. He’ll only uplift them. Worship them, kiss them, and praise them. 

Bucky’s cleaning up the empty pizza box and plastic bottles when Steve pads over to him– blankets and all. He drops his head on the back of Bucky’s shoulder and holds him from behind, linking his hands together. Bucky doesn’t move. He waits patiently for Steve to let go– but instead feels a  kiss to his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Steve finally says. 

Bucky smiles, nodding. 

“I didn’t realize how much I needed you– till I got you. Now I’m terrified I’ll lose you.” 

“Hey,” Bucky soothes, turning around and pulling Steve into a hug. “You’re stuck with me. I can’t walk away from your case– I’m not even allowed. You’re in charge of me.” He nuzzles his nose against Steve’s before pressing a kiss against its tip. He fucking  _ loves _ giving nose kisses. 

“Oh I’m in charge?” Steve teases. “Well in that case, why aren’t you naked yet?” 

Bucky barks out a laugh, tossing his head back. It’s like a little switch got flipped in Steve, sad to happy. He’s so open and wild with his emotions. He’s an explosion of desire to please and to just  _ be good _ . Bucky wants this Steve always. The happy one with the smiles and little sassy remarks. He doesn’t want Steve living in fear. He doesn’t want his happiness to go away. He’s going to go down fighting for this man. Bucky respects Jen Walters, but he’s holding no punches back. This is personal now, consequences be damned. The world has hurt Steve, and now it’s time for it to pay its dues. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add me on tumblr! [buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> Links to all the gear and equipment mentioned in this chapter: (these images are obviously NSFW)  
> [fucking bench](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/46/22/e3/4622e38831dfb66289da72ab50c20400.jpg)  
> [doggy style locking spreader](https://www.extremerestraints.com/dungeon-furniture_18/the-doggy-style-locking-spreader_65.html)  
> [stockade with chest pad](https://www.extremerestraints.com/dungeon-furniture_18/stockade-with-chest-pad-and-fucking-rod_7226.html)  
> [cock and balls pillory](https://www.extremerestraints.com/dungeon-furniture_18/the-cock-and-ball-pillory_192.html)  
> [sex swing](https://www.extremerestraints.com/sex-swings_170/trinity-sex-swing_1293.html)  
> [forced orgasm tower](https://www.extremerestraints.com/dungeon-furniture_18/the-forced-orgasm-tower_2937.html)  
> [fucking machine](https://www.extremerestraints.com/fucking-machines_48/versa-fuk-machine_7000.html)  
> [anal impaler spreader](https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.extremerestraints.com/dungeon-furniture_18/the-anal-impaler_391.html&sa=D&ust=1459889668925000&usg=AFQjCNF8T4iEZGvmfTRD2rd731qWWizZWg)  
> [bondage horse](https://www.extremerestraints.com/sex-aids_169/blackwood-bondage-horse_9470.html)  
> [steel suspension bar](https://www.extremerestraints.com/dungeon-furniture_18/steel-suspension-bar_324.html)  
> [prostate stimulator](https://www.extremerestraints.com/male-p-spot-toys_387/the-10-function-self-pleasing-prostate-stimulator_4079.html)  
> [St Andrews Cross](http://www.keepingitkinky.net/bdsm/toys-equipment/st-andrews-cross/st-cross-image3.jpg)


	3. Motion to Discover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Steve and Bucky start really defining and understanding their relationship...Steve gets thrown a curve ball in his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick super duper thank you to my absolutely fantastic alpha-beta, [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/) I cannot believe she puts up with my messes.  
> And thank you to everyone who has read, kudo'd, commented, ect ect. It means so much!! I'm so glad I get to share my passion of sub!bottom!Steve with you <3
> 
>  **Warning:** As stated in previous chapters, this fic is a heavy bdsm fic. There may be kinks mentioned/used that you are not comfortable with. With that being said, TAGS UPDATED! If you do not know what a certain type of kink is, please do not hesitate to ask me!
> 
> (Also, I swear I'll redo the tags in a nice neat new order later.....) hahahahaha I just really wanted to post this chapter since it's been a long time coming.

Steve grabs the bottle of lotion for the fifth time since he decided to turn on the TV. Bucky’s still asleep and Steve is nothing if not a glutton for punishment. He cringes, watching people discussing his case– just the facts, of course, since Bucky’s got the injunction up against speculation. But even with the injunction, people are still able to comment on Eddie and Harry. Jesus, Eddie and Harry…

He looks down at his hands, rubbing the lotion in. He’s used so much lotion that his hands feel slimy and puffy. His fingers are red from how hard he’s wrung them out. He still can’t stop fidgeting with them. He used _these_ hands. These hands…

_‘What do your hands look like, Steve?’_

“Bucky’s hands,” Steve whispers, staring at his abused fingers. “They’re just like Bucky’s hands…”

He hears crying on the TV and looks up. Gwen Stacy is on. It’s pre-recorded and a few days old but it still lodges a thick rock into Steve’s throat. He whines, sitting up and watching. He killed this woman’s boyfriend. It doesn’t matter _why_ anymore. He did it. The world depicts Eddie and Harry like gods taken too soon. No one cares that they were going to gang rape Gwen and pass her around like a coke bottle. No one cares about Steve’s side.

 _“I just miss him so much,”_ Gwen says on the TV screen. Her eyes and nose are red. She graciously takes a tissue from the interviewer. _“I just wish I could tell Eddie one more time that I love him. I’ll always love him. I think we’d have gotten married if things– If…”_ She breaks down. Steve hears cameras clicking faster and faster, like a ticking time bomb and his heart is the explosive. He feels like he’ll die if he keeps watching this. She’s crying; her whole life has changed because of an impulse on Steve’s part. She’s suffering and there’s nothing Steve can do to change it!

“Turn that shit off,” Bucky grumbles as he comes out of his bedroom. His face has little red lines in it from having been plastered into the pillow. His hair is all tousled up and he’s just in briefs. Steve can’t help but look down at the bulge in those briefs, round and thick and _fuck_ Steve wants it.

Steve turns the TV off, his gaze never leaving Bucky’s body. He’s a goddamned work of art. Thick shoulders, broad chest and the cutest chest hair Steve’s ever seen. He’s not as wide as Steve is, but he’s almost just as built. And his _thighs_ … Steve wouldn’t be opposed to feeling those crush his face.

_‘And I’m his now.’_

“She shouldn’t be talkin’ to the public this much. She shouldn’t be doing any of this shit!” Bucky goes over to the coffee pot and starts going about to make coffee. “She saw what happened. She fuckin’ knows! What the fuck’s her deal, Jesus Christ!”

“You’re in a mood,” Steve states. He scans Bucky’s shirtless back. His skin doesn’t look anything like Peggy’s or Sharon’s. It’s firmer, deeper in tone and Steve’s pretty sure if he clawed at Bucky, the lines would fade before the sun rose the next day. He wants to draw this man naked. He wants to _get_ this man naked.

“I’m fuckin’ sick of this shit!” Bucky exclaims, flippantly throwing up a hand. “I mean, _Jesus_! This girl is single-handedly destroying your case! It’s like she–” Bucky halts, his eyes widening. “It’s like…someone’s… Oh shit.” Bucky drops his coffee mug, letting it clatter to the counter. He runs into his office and starts throwing around paperwork.

It would be comical except this is Steve’s life on the line and Steve’s just run out of his good humor. He stands up, wrapping the blankets around his shoulders and blinks hard a few times. His contacts are pissing him off.

“Bucky, what’s she doin’?”

Bucky keeps throwing around paper until he seems to find what he’s looking for. He grabs the sheet of paper and picks up his office phone. He punches the buttons furiously, ignoring Steve.

“Bucky!”

“Karen? Karen! I need you to run an address for me,” Bucky rushes out. He’s holding a pen above the piece of paper, his fingers trembling slightly.

“Bucky,” Steve repeats again, softer this time. His heart’s slamming up against his sternum and he’s not sure if he should laugh or cry at what’s happening. He feels like he cries enough. He cries over everything. For once in his miserable life, he’d like to just laugh at how bad things have gotten. He feels the tears prick along his eyelids. He takes a deep breath, watching Bucky as he says someone’s address over and over again, like it means something.

Steve doesn’t recognize it.

“Tell Matt n’ Foggy I need them too if you see ‘em before me,” Bucky says. “So that’s the right address? Yeah? Oh shit! Karen, you’re a fucking beaut! I’ll name my firstborn after you!” Bucky slams the phone down and spins on his heel. He buzzes right by Steve and rounds into his room.

Steve clenches his fists. He doesn’t want to push. He doesn’t _like_ getting pushy. But Bucky’s ignoring him and regardless of what happened last night, Steve is still Bucky’s client and Bucky has to be honest with him about this case. It’s _Steve’s_ case!

Steve walks over to Bucky’s door, leaning against the frame as he watches Bucky shove himself into pants and a button down. “Where’re you goin’?”

“Peter Parker’s,” Bucky finally relinquishes.

“But that’s Harry’s best friend?”

“Yeah and yet the press is suspiciously quiet about him. It’s like someone doesn’t want something to leak out. Like they’re burying it with all of Gwen’s mewling.”

“She lost her boyfriend, Bucky. She’s allowed to cry.”

“Her boyfriend’s a rapist!” Bucky shouts, his face flushing red for a second.

Steve steps back, his lips parting in shock.

Bucky recoils, his shoulders relaxing. “S-Steve m’sorry. I just– This case it’s…” Bucky sighs heavily. “It’s personal.”

Steve nods, swallowing thickly. In any other circumstance, Steve would be going weak in the knees and warm all over. But he’s ice cold and his lungs feel like they’ll collapse at any moment.

Bucky’s face softens and he moves over to Steve, squeezing Steve’s shoulders. He’s solid and warm and human and all Steve wants to do is just drop into those arms and cry. But he’s so _done_ with crying.

“Hey,” Bucky coos. “I’ve gotcha.” Bucky pulls Steve’s face down into the crook of his neck.

Steve goes pliant, wrapping his arms around Bucky. He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want to ever let go. Maybe it’s the heightened anxiety from the case, maybe it’s the intense scene they had last night, but Steve’s already so attached to this man. He’s home base and everything Steve’s ever wanted in a Dom. Compassion, empathy, security, power… Bucky’s the most beautiful thing on the planet and Steve’s more upset about life in prison because he’d lose Bucky– not because life in prison. He just doesn’t want to lose Bucky.

“You’re gonna be okay, Steve,” Bucky whispers, pressing a kiss to Steve’s ear. “I’m gonna do everything I can for you. We’re fightin’ this, okay?” He squeezes Steve softly and Steve can’t help but let out a choked little moan.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, his throat clamping down without his permission. He feels the tears well up again and he almost wants to scream in frustration. Everything’s so raw now. Happiness is so rare that he clings to it like a desperate man clings to the last beat up shred of hope in his miserable existence. Sadness is so rampant that his wounds are split open and vulnerable. Any little thing that touches him is like a fire pressed to his skin. It’s all so _raw_.

“I need you to understand something, Kitten,” Bucky begins softly. He’s stroking his fingers through Steve’s hair, massaging the base of his skull.

Steve purrs from the sensation.

“We’re a team, okay? I’ll never abandon you. I’ll never cut corners with you. I’ll fight till there’s nothing left to fight and then I’ll _still_ find a way. You’re not going to prison. I can’t–” He takes a moment to gulp down air. “We’re in this together. Okay, Kitten?”

Steve feels his body warm up and turn to putty. When Bucky calls him that, it’s like the rest of the world ceases to exist and it’s just the two of them. There’s no pain, no death, no sickness. There’s no media out for Steve’s bones and there’s no Gwen Stacy crying on television. There’s just Bucky and his velvety voice that could bring the strongest men to their knees in submission.

“Yes Sir,” Steve answers, his heart fluttering.

Bucky hums in approval before kissing the side of Steve’s head and pulling away.

Steve instantly goes cold. He tugs the blankets around his shoulders, watching Bucky put on his socks and shoes.

“I’ll only be gone for an hour or two, okay? After that, we can do somethin’. Anything you want.”

“What if I just want you naked?”

Bucky smirks. He stands up, straightening out his blazer. He looks like an attorney, all powerful and calculative. He could offer the prettiest smile and stab a person in the back at the same time, and Steve wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.

Bucky pulls Steve close by the blankets around his shoulders. He brings him in for a rough kiss and nips down hard on his lip. Steve gasps into the kiss, pressing his crotch firmly against Bucky’s body. He wants this. He wants to be naked and in Bucky’s lap while Bucky’s in this million dollar suit. He wants Bucky to call him the filthiest names and tease him till he can’t withstand it anymore.

“Actually, I’ve got something planned for us later,” Bucky breathes out, his lips still against Steve’s. “We’ve gotta talk a bit more– about all this, but I think you’ll be game for it.”

Steve quirks a brow, licking at his lips hungrily.

Bucky laughs darkly, patting Steve on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, Kitten. Don’t you dare touch yourself while I’m gone.”

Steve smiles, nodding. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Sir.”

“Good boy,” Bucky praises as he moves around Steve and then he’s gone.

Steve stares at Bucky’s bed, looking at the rumpled sheets and the soft indent in the pillow. He didn’t sleep in that bed last night. It wasn’t like Bucky didn’t let him. Steve just likes the couch. He’s also pretty sure that if Bucky let him sleep next to him, Bucky would wake up with Steve’s mouth wrapped around his cock. Steve smirks, wondering what kind of punishment he could get himself with that kind of behavior. Bucky’s clearly teasing him, withholding himself from Steve but casually laying breadcrumbs. Like this morning, or how suggestive Bucky is.

Steve takes a deep breath, looking down at his cock. It’s almost all the way erect and certainly throbbing with need but Bucky said no. Steve isn’t going to start this relationship off on the wrong foot. So he goes back into the living room and drops onto the couch.

He grabs the lotion again and looks to his hands. “These aren’t weapons. They’re just hands.” He pumps more lotion out and begins to massage it into his skin. “Not weapons… not weapons…”

* * *

Mack Mackenzie @MackMackenziee – 23min  
Is anyone else hella tired of all this Eddie and Harry were the best stories? We get it. [#RescueRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/ch3mack1.jpg_zps8aoodfuh.png)

Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 15min  
[@MackMackenziee](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/ch3daisy2.jpg_zpsma5l5jht.png) OMG rite? Let’s hear about Steve’s life! Art student? Sure that’s a ruthless guy… [#RescueRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/ch3daisy2.jpg_zpsma5l5jht.png)

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 12min  
[@DaisySkyee](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/ch3grant1.jpg_zps40lcptxp.png) He can use crayons! Huzzah! ALERT THE MEDIA!

Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 3sec  
[@HailHyGrant ](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/ch3daisy3.jpg_zpsjnzyc4hv.png)You’re such a dick.

Steve’s curled up in a corner of the couch when Bucky comes home. Home? Is that what this even is? Steve isn’t so sure. It’s Bucky’s home, but Steve’s? Steve doesn’t really have a home right now. Just a couch and the hope that Bucky wants him around. He looks up, offering a small smile.

“Whatcha doin’?” Bucky asks as he puts some takeout on the counter and begins to dish out the food. It smells good, whatever it is.

“Drawing,” Steve replies.

“You stopped watching the news finally?” Bucky turns to grab some plates.

“When do you start jury selection?” Steve inquires, tilting his head to the side.

Bucky dumps some white rice on both plates. His lips are pressed together and he’s got the faintest little crinkle between his eyes. “We’re still in discovery. Won’t be doing that for a month or two.”

“What’s all this about a speedy trial then? In the Constitution?” Steve stands up and finally decides to peek at the food. It’s Indian. He feels his mouth watering as he looks at all the curry. He _adores_ Indian.

“You’re out of a holding cell and you’ve been informed of your charges. Trials take months. The Constitution is there to make sure no one holds you in a cell for years before you even know why you’re being held. A true speedy trial would mean less discovery and less discovery could get a man improperly convicted.”

Steve nods, snagging one of the plates and sitting atop a barstool. He leans his elbows on the counter, watching Bucky pull out some rice pudding from the takeout bags.

“You tryin’ to get me fat?” Steve teases.

Bucky smirks, licking the corner of his lips. “Would you be insulted if I said you’d look cute chubby?”

Steve shrugs. “I feel that’s gonna happen. All I do is sit now.”

Bucky wrinkles his nose. He grabs some utensils and then starts to poke at his meal. “We could work out together? There’s a gym in the basement. It’d be fun.”

Steve nods, scooping up a bite of chicken curry and rice. “I’d like that. I’m goin’ crazy in here.”

“You’re allowed outside, Steve,” Bucky explains around a mouthful of rice. “You’re not a prisoner.”

Steve just shrugs a shoulder, pursing his lips. He takes a few more bites of his food. He knows he’s allowed outside. He’s not a prisoner…yet. “But– um, there’s– It’s just the people. Ya know? They all know, um, they know what I did.”

Bucky nods, taking a deep breath. He stabs a piece of chicken vindaloo more violently than he probably means to. Steve just tries to make himself small, crumpling his shoulders in and dipping his chin.

“Fuck ‘em,” Bucky growls. “Seriously, Steve. Fuck everyone. Where’re your friends? Let’s go visit your mom? Let’s go fuckin’ _do_ something! I’ll insult every single person that looks at you funny.”

Steve smiles, rolling his eyes. “You’re a spitfire, Bucky Barnes.”

“And you’re–” Bucky shoves his food away from him. He groans, banging his head on the refrigerator. Steve just blinks, watching. “You’re too goddamned good for this world.”

“I killed two people. Put more in the hospital. I ain’t too good for anythin’.”

“Stop that,” Bucky whispers. “I know you feel that way. I know it’s hard– what you’re goin’ through. I can’t even begin to really understand how you feel, but stop it. Stop sayin’ you killed people. You saved someone. You _saved_ someone who is shitting on you at every turn and not once have you said a single bad thing about her. She’s out there right now, Steve! She’s defiling who you are. She’s building you into a monster and making Eddie and Harry gods! And you’re not even angry at her!”

Steve shrugs, a small smile on his lips. “Guess I’m not so smart.”

“You’re as stupid as you are kind,” Bucky agrees. “Jesus, Steve. If the world could see you the way I do.”

Steve flicks his brow up, looking down at his food. “Naked and crying as I come all over your hands?”

Bucky growls approvingly, a smile stretching on his perfect lips. He’s got lips that women would pay thousands of dollars for. Bless whatever circumstances that took millions of years to create one Bucky Barnes.

“For once, Steve, no. No, not that. Good. Just good.” Bucky pulls his meal back to him and picks up his fork again. “We’re gonna go work out. But first we gotta talk about some things.”

Steve cocks a brow.

“I guess I just need more clarification on what you want out of me. I’m not the kind of Dom that thinks it’s okay to assume things.”

Steve chews his food before speaking. “Um, I guess I want– I dunno.”

“Yes you do, Steve,” Bucky prods. “And I ain’t doin’ shit to you again till I know what’s expected of me.”

“Your mouth is filthy, Barnes!” Steve laughs, flicking a forkful of rice at Bucky.

Bucky yelps in surprise, grabbing some rice and flinging it right back in Steve’s face. They’re both giggling, getting rice all over the counter and floor. It’s at moments like these that Steve does long for his friends. He hasn’t even spoken to them since before he went into that holding cell. God, the last time he saw Sam… Steve was trembling and covered in blood. Sam had just talked him through it. He promised things would find a way to work out. Sam ran behind the cop car as far as he could before the traffic eventually forced them to part. God, Steve misses Sam. Most of Steve’s friends are female. He’s never really gotten along with guys. But Sam– Sam never cared that Steve was a little too weird or a little too big. He never judged Steve and even when Steve saw him after the _incident_ , Sam only smiled.

“Steve,” Bucky says, pulling Steve back to the present. “You okay?”

Steve nods, shifting on the barstool. “Sorry.”

“For?”

“Gettin’ rice all over your kitchen,” Steve supplies. It’s a little white lie, but Steve’s not ready to open up about Sam yet. He’s _sick_ of crying. “So, what I want out of you, yeah?”

Bucky nods, clearly humoring Steve and not pushing about the sudden change in Steve’s behavior.

“It all sounds so stupid,” Steve replies, struggling to get his mind to connect with his mouth. He’s got millions of reasons why he likes being a sub. Millions of reasons why Bucky makes the most sense but he can’t just bring himself to explain it. Something switches off and makes him nervous about it. He knows he can trust Bucky, but it’s hard to really get it out into the air between them. It’s hard without sounding so pathetic and desperate.

“Go slow,” Bucky supplies. “Start small.”

“I want a lover.” Steve shrugs, scratching his nose. “Um, I can’t just– I need more than just the scene. I need that, um, that connection.”

Bucky nods. He’s ignoring his food now and that makes Steve feel uncomfortable. Steve’s spent his entire life trying to go unnoticed and when Bucky looks at him like nothing else matters, it’s intimidating.

“I need someone else to tell me what to do. To like, I dunno. Hold me back? I’ve got all these thoughts and fears and all this bullshit in my head and it’s so _loud_. I just want someone else to lead me through it. Focus on pain, pleasure, rules… I– um, shit.”

Bucky smiles. “You’re doin’ great, baby.”

Steve shivers, letting a small sound escape his lips. Every time Bucky shows him the tiniest bit of affection, he’s just falling to pieces in the best of ways. His brain goes quiet and it’s the most amazing feeling.

“I just need someone else’s structure. But I need a companion. I can’t be on my knees in front of you all the time or I’m gonna start thinking I’m worthless. I need– Jesus, fuck. I don’t even know what m’saying!”

“Yes you do,” Bucky encourages. “You’re doin’ great. Keep going.”

“It’s so hard,” Steve admits through a whisper. “You make everything feel so intense and it’s so hard.”

“Do I intimidate you?”

“No,” Steve answers quickly. “Maybe. I dunno.”

“That’s a lot of answers and I need just one.” Bucky leans forward, resting on his elbows. He’s still looking at Steve so intently.

Steve sits back on the barstool. His back’s starting to hurt and he suddenly feels too big in the open room. It’s just him and Bucky but he feels like the world is watching. He hunches over, folding his arms and pressing his face into them on the counter.

“So…do you want– a boyfriend?” Bucky asks. Attorneys, always trying to get to the point.

“Yes,” Steve admits. “I want one so badly.”

“Have you ever had one?”

“No.” Steve blushes. “Is that a problem?”

“Absolutely not,” Bucky responds firmly. “I kinda like that I get to be the first.”

“You’re gonna be the first for a lot of things.” Steve’s face is still pressed into his arms. His funny bone keeps getting hit with awkward pressure in this position and the bones in his arm are uncomfortable against his brow, but he doesn’t look up.

“You don’t want a 24/7 lifestyle. Just sometimes. Right?”

“I dunno,” Steve answers miserably. “I like the idea of you givin’ me orders. I used to be a soldier. Takin’ orders is easy. I just wanna feel like I mean something.”

“You do mean something,” Bucky whispers. He reaches out and grabs Steve’s wrist. Steve looks up, taking a gulp of air. “You mean a hell of a lot.”

Steve’s brow pulls together. He’s never believed in love at first sight. He still doesn’t. When he first saw Bucky, he was angry with him. He was jealous that Bucky could leave the jail and Steve would be shoved back in with those men who threatened to touch him and do…these things…with him. But Steve does believe in the concept of knowing whether he can _eventually_ love someone. And he can love Bucky. Given time, they could probably love each other. It’s a lot more comforting to Steve than he previously realized.

“I want you to protect me,” Steve says, feeling traitorous tears wet his eyes. “I want you to tell me what’s best for me. I want you to– fuck.”

“Hey,” Bucky coos, coming around the counter to pull Steve into a tight embrace. “Shh, I gotcha. You’re okay. You’re okay, baby.” He runs his fingers through Steve’s hair, tucking Steve right in place under his chin.

Steve lets the tears slip from his eyes. He’s got his face pressed up against Bucky’s heart and it feels like their bodies were made for each other. He slots up so nicely against Bucky’s body. It’s warm and Bucky’s heart is _right there_ and it’s beating so fast and all Steve wants to do is kiss that chest over and over again. He wants to fall asleep listening to that little _badum badum badum_.

“Steve Rogers, will you be my boyfriend? I promise to always protect you. I promise I’ll always take care of you and give you everything you need.”

Steve laughs at how cheesy it is, but it’s everything he wanted to hear. So he clutches Bucky harder, letting out a sob and smearing tears into Bucky’s shirt. Bucky’s heart is loud against his ears and it’s the most beautiful music Steve’s ever heard. It’s fast and powerful, full of life and it’s all there because of Steve. It’s beating so fast because that’s how _Steve_ makes _Bucky_ feel. They both stir each other up. Steve never thought he’d ever have this. He never thought he could find any happiness in a world where he’s torn so many lives apart.

He was a soldier. To assume that he’s never killed anyone before is preposterous. He’s killed so many in war and those deaths were all excused. Eddie and Harry? Theirs aren’t. Steve’s accountable for them and he accepts that. But he’s also accountable for the faceless and nameless men and women he killed during war. So the fact that he’s happy right now? It’s the strangest juxtaposition Steve’s ever been in and he’s not sure if it’s okay but he just wants it to be so badly.

“Yes,” Steve shakily breathes out. “Yes I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Bucky squeezes him harder, pressing kisses atop Steve’s head.

Steve’s nerves are trembling under his skin. He feels like someone just shot him up with adrenaline and he needs to run a ten thousand mile marathon. He needs to scream or pound his fists against a wall or do something reckless.

He settles for pulling Bucky into a sloppy, wet kiss.

Bucky squeaks but his mouth quickly opens and he’s doing everything right. He’s taking control of the kiss, shoving Steve’s tongue back and slowing them down. He’s wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders and cupping the back of Steve’s head. He tugs Steve up, guiding him away from the barstool before shoving him onto the floor.

Steve goes willingly, letting Bucky climb atop him and pin him down. Bucky’s hands are slipping up Steve’s white shirt, fingers trailing along abs. He’s so warm, so solid and he’s there only for Steve.

Steve moans into the kiss when Bucky bites down on his tongue. It stings likes a bee but Steve’s cock is straining from it. He’s rubbing his crotch up against Bucky’s body, trying desperately to get anything and everything out of this man.

Bucky trails wet kisses down Steve’s jaw. For a moment, Steve’s slightly ashamed that his face is a little rougher than it normally is. He hasn’t shaved in a few days. He hears the scratching of his scruff against Bucky’s lips, hears the smacking of lips and feels the cooling saliva against his jaw– and it’s all just so goddamn good.

He lets Bucky circle a nipple with his fingers. Steve’s always been too sensitive there and he gasps sharply, his eyes opening to stare up at the high ceilings. His cock is already drooling and he could come from this if he’s not careful. Bucky’s relentless; swirling his fingers around and around, tugging and flicking at Steve’s nipple until it starts to hurt.

“Oh God,” Steve gasps. “Oh fuck please…”

Bucky pulls back. He sits up, looking unfazed, and straightens out his tie.

Steve’s staring up at him like he’s the Hand of God, his lips swollen cherry red and his chest rising and falling. His heart beating wildly in his chest, begging to spring forth and just scream in elation.

“We’re not done talking,” Bucky says simply. “You wanna go down this road, we gotta keep talking.”

Steve nods, his brain still fuzzy. He can still feel the ghost of Bucky’s fingers against his nipple and he arches into the air.

Bucky stands up, offering a hand down to Steve and helping Steve up. They move over to the sofa and Steve falls onto the cushions. He pushes a hand into his nipple, trying to get the sensations to stop. Bucky quirks a brow.

“I can’t stress to you how fucking sensitive I am there,” Steve supplies.

Bucky nods, a smirk on his lips. “Good to know.”

“So, what’re we talkin’ about?” Steve asks. He doesn’t want to talk. He wants Bucky to take him apart and just wing the whole thing. But he knows that’s not Bucky’s style, and honestly, that’s the most comforting thing Steve’s ever known. Bucky _wants_ to be as good for Steve as Steve wants to be for Bucky.

“We talked a bit about what we’re into, but we didn’t talk about us.”

Steve watches the way Bucky shifts on the couch, spreading his legs out and dropping a hand over his thigh. It’s a power pose and with that suit on, all it does is make Steve lick at his lips to keep from whimpering.

“You want someone to tell you what to do, so we gotta figure out what I’m tellin’ you to do.”

Steve laughs, looking over at the TV to see their reflection. Two men sitting on a couch. It’s almost comical at how casual Bucky approaches these types of conversations. But maybe that’s just Steve’s inexperience setting in.

“So I gotta keep prying you open.” Bucky just shrugs, like it’s the easiest thing to do.

“Lovely,” Steve quips. “I told you before, but I’ll say it again. I’m not the most experienced here. All I know is what I did with Sharon and Peggy. I’ve researched– of course. But I trust you, so, um– I’m really down for whatever.”

“No,” Bucky turns to face Steve. He reaches up to cup Steve’s face with a hand and gives the tiniest little jerk of Steve’s chin. It’s commanding and gets Steve to stare at him with wide blue eyes. “What if I’m into something that you’re really afraid of? What if I’m into knives or gore?”

“But you’re not,” Steve answers, his face going stern. He doesn’t jerk out of Bucky’s hold on his chin.

“What if I wanted to put you on a stretcher and really pull at your joints till you started to pop? What if suddenly you were in that position and it really wasn’t something you wanted, but you did it anyway cause ‘you’re down for whatever’? You can be open to new things, but we have to talk about it. I can’t just assume you’re good with everything and then throw you into something you’re not actually okay with.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Steve whispers. “You’re too concerned about it.”

“Damn right I am!” Bucky exclaims, finally letting go of Steve’s chin. “We’re gonna have rules. And if you don’t follow them, it won’t just be me spankin’ you as a punishment. It could end us.”

Steve just takes in a deep breath, nodding slowly. “Tell me ‘em.”

“Rule one, whenever we start a scene, we’re gonna talk it all out. No surprises. I’ll tell you everything and if you think you wanna try something, but you’re nervous about it, you _have_ to tell me. We’ll work through smaller stuff before getting up to extreme. As long as I’m aware you’re on the border, I can help you through it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Rule two, I don’t own you. Don’t you for a _second_ think your opinions or your feelings aren’t as important as mine. They are. If you start feeling like they’re not, you come to me and we’ll work through it. Okay?”

“Okay.” Steve wants to lean into Bucky, but he’s pretty sure now isn’t the proper time.  

“And I guess rule two point one, because I don’t own you, you’re completely within your right to break up with me or end this relationship or back it up, change it, whatever. It’s yours and mine. Just as I’m allowed to end it.”

Steve hesitates, swallowing.

“Okay?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. “Okay.”

“Rule three, I’m here for you. If you think I’m not givin’ you enough attention or if you need me to do something specific, you tell me. Don’t let it build up. Just talk to me. A lot of people don’t know it, but I know for a fact that good Doms will kill themselves if their sub needed it. I’m not here for some sick self-fulfilling power imbalance shit. I’m here because you need me and I want to give myself to you. Okay?”

“Jesus,” Steve breathes out.

“Steve?”

“Yes! Okay! Yes.”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“No!” Steve scratches at his scruff. He really wants to shave. “It’s just. I dunno. You’re amazing. I’m just– I’m just amazed by you. That’s all. It’s nothin’ bad. I guess I just, um, I just didn’t know. I mean, I want a Dom. I like submitting. But I didn’t know the other side. I didn’t know how much you’re– ya know, you’re submitting to me almost as much as I am to you.”

Bucky laughs, pulling Steve into his chest. “That’s the point you dipshit.”

Steve just blushes, feeling his face go hot. He rubs his nose along Bucky’s sternum, feeling the dense bone. Bucky’s so solid. He’s almost as large as Steve, though he hides it well in business suits. But he’s got beautiful biceps and thick thighs. Steve loves how _solid_ this man is.

“You’re a goofball,” Bucky whispers, kissing Steve’s head.

“Are those all your rules, Sir? Can we go back to kissing now?” He shifts up Bucky to straddle the man. Smirking, he runs his hands down Bucky’s chest, cupping his pecs. “Wanna see you naked finally.”

“You don’t get that yet, Kitten.”

Steve whines, dropping his face to Bucky’s shoulder. “But I need it!”

Bucky laughs, squirming a little beneath Steve. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll let you see me naked if you can do one little thing for me.”

“Anything,” Steve breathes out, rocking his hips atop Bucky’s lap. All he has to do is touch Bucky and his cock’s throbbing for more.

“Try something new with me,” Bucky explains, pulling Steve’s face in to kiss his lips. “And tell me if you don’t want to.”

Steve whines into the kiss, frantically circling his dick atop Bucky’s. He can feel the man growing hard beneath him and it’s empowering. He’s the reason Bucky’s feeling good. He growls into the kiss, pride and pleasure blending into his senses.

Bucky steadies Steve’s hips. He looks up at Steve with spit-shiny lips and a devilish smirk. “I want you to wear a chastity cage.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes out.

“Oh?”

“I’ve never–um. How long? What’s it look like?”

“I’ll show you. Playroom.”

Steve swings off of Bucky and waits as his Dom leads him into the playroom. His cock is pulsing hard now, completely erect and straining against his briefs. He wants to come. He wants to come so bad but now Bucky’ wants to put him in a chastity cage?

Bucky opens one of the toolkits along the wall and pulls out a cock cage with a long silver needle. “They’re called Gates of Hell.”

“What’s the needle-thing?”

“It’s a sound. It’s hollow and is used in urethra play.”

“And you want me to wear it?”

“If you want to wear it,” Bucky shoots back. “Remember our rules.”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Bucky answers. “I’ll lube it up though. Shouldn’t be that bad. What’ll hurt is your dick as it’s straining to get some friction.”

“Oh Jesus,” Steve sighs out. His knees are already threatening to collapse on him. “Uh, how long?”

Bucky smirks.

“Bucky!”

“If you can handle it for three days, I’ll let you strip me naked and do whatever you want to me.”

Steve’s brows practically shoot into his hairline. He balks, standing there with an erect cock and trembling fingers. “We’ve got depositions?”

“Yup,” Bucky replies. The prick knows exactly what he’s doing and Steve fucking _loves_ it.

“So I wear it for three days, and then I can get you to fuck me?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Could I fuck you?” Steve asks challengingly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Bucky shrugs. “If that’s what you want. But I don’t think that’s what you want.”

“Jesus motherfucking Christ.”

“Who’s the one with the dirty mouth on ‘im now?” Bucky teases. “I’m still learning your body. I’m not comfortable doing anythin’ that I can’t get a good read on how you’ll react. This is all part of understanding you. You can safe word out at any time. All I’ll do is put this on you and slip the sound in and it’s hollow so you don’t gotta worry about that.. Three days and that’s it. Right after you do your deposition, you can come home and take all my clothes off.”

“Okay,” Steve answers eagerly, his leg muscles quivering. “Okay okay, yes, yes. Green. Fucking green let’s go.”

“Not so fast tough guy,” Bucky says, walking around Steve like a predator sizing up his prey.

Steve gulps, watching Bucky’s gaze darken. He feels his limbs trembling. He needs touch. He needs Bucky closer. How’s he going to last three days with that thing on him? _In_ him?

“We’re not just puttin’ it on you and that’s that.”

Steve takes a step back, his breathing labored and shaky. “I need to sit down.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s arm and helps him over into the bedroom. He gets Steve to lie down and gently strokes his face with the back of his knuckles. “You okay?”

“What else do you wanna do to me, Sir?”

Bucky laughs, kissing Steve’s cheek. “Didn’t you realize that talkin’ about it is almost as fun as doin’ it? S’why it’s one of my rules.” He nibbles gently on Steve’s chin. “I thought it was one of your kinks.”

“Fuck me,” Steve breathes.

“Three days and I will, baby.”

Steve closes his eyes. His limbs won’t stop shaking. His dick is twitching desperately in his briefs. He can feel the wet spot on his underwear, cold against his heated skin. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Bucky laughs, kissing down Steve’s jaw before sucking loudly against his neck. Steve leans into it, humming in approval. “You want me to touch you?” he asks.

“Yes,” Steve replies. “Please, Sir?”

Bucky dips his hand under Steve’s waistband and palms Steve’s cock through his underwear. He circles it gently, letting his fingers ghost along the length before he pulls back and lets his hand slip up to Steve’s chest again.

“Oh God, no not again,” Steve whimpers, arching up into Bucky’s hand when he circles a nipple. “Fuck I’ll come.”

“No you won’t,” Bucky whispers, kissing Steve’s face. “You wanna be good, right? I got you to come so many times last night. You’re not a greedy boy, right?”

“No Sir,” Steve replies, his body humming from sensation. He’s warm, like a marshmallow tucked up near a fire. His limbs are slowly melting into the mattress and he can’t exactly pinpoint where his body ends and Bucky’s hand begins.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises, kissing Steve’s lips. “I’m gonna take your pants off okay? I’m just gonna touch you. That’s all.”

Steve nods.

“Words, Kitten,” Bucky requests gently.

“Yes, please, Sir.”

Steve shivers as Bucky’s fingers claw down his chest and under his waistband. He lifts his hips and lets Bucky take off his sweatpants. His cock is pushing against his underwear and he’s never hated the feeling more. Bucky’s like a supernova; everything about him is terrifyingly beautiful and powerful. All Steve wants is to be swallowed up by Bucky’s presence.

Bucky tugs Steve’s briefs down to under his balls and wraps a hand around Steve’s cock. He gives it a few tugs, slow and casual.

Steve arches up, rocking his hips back and forth. He hates this… He loves this. He knows he doesn’t get to come and that feeling sets a fire in his belly. It feels like glass is pressing into his nerves but he can’t get enough of it. “Touch me,” he whispers. “Please, Sir, touch me.”

Bucky laughs, using two fingers to play at Steve’s slit. “What’m I doin’? Sittin’ on my hands?”

“Jerk,” Steve breathes out. He yelps when he feels a little pinch to the underside of his cock.

Bucky just shrugs. “That’s no way to talk to your Dom, Kitten.”

“S-sorry,” Steve whimpers out. “M’sorry, Sir.”

Bucky’s voice– his little punishments and rewards. He’s a drug Steve didn’t even know he needed. Now he’s got it and it’s set the world right. Steve wants to give himself entirely to this man. He wants to let go and just _feel_ instead of think.

“Shh, it’s okay, beautiful,” Bucky coos. He kisses Steve’s hipbone before letting his tongue trail along the bone and to the dip of Steve’s navel.

“Oh…God…oh fuck…” Steve pants, rolling his body up into Bucky’s ministrations.

Bucky rolls off the bed, moving to the nightstand and pulling out his bottle of lube. He crawls back onto the bed and settles between Steve’s legs. “You’ve got the prettiest hole. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Steve blushes, squeezing his ass muscles closed as if that’d change Bucky’s focus.

“God, you’re so pretty,” Bucky praises, kissing Steve’s inner thigh a few times. “Prettiest piece of ass I’ve ever seen.”

Steve snorts. “Bucky, you’re being too funny!”

Bucky spits onto his finger and circles over Steve’s hole.

Steve drops his head back on the bed and moans loudly. The sensation is like warm butter sliding down his ass.

“This ain’t really a scene, baby,” Bucky explains. “But it’ll still fuck you up.” He dips a finger into Steve, swirling it slowly along the muscles. Steve squeezes down on that finger, desperate to feel himself fill up. He wants to know how full he’ll feel when Bucky finally presses into him. God, he knows Bucky’s got a huge dick. He’s felt it. That’s the best fucking part about bottoming– that initial fill. The world slows down and there’s that first sigh of absolute bliss. Steve lives for that moment.

Steve hums happily, rocking his hips back and forth on Bucky’s finger. He jerks up when he feels something cold on his cock.

“S’okay,” Bucky soothes. “Just the cage.”

Steve whimpers, watching Bucky pull out his finger and start slipping the rings over Steve’s cock. The metal’s cold and unrelenting but the leather warms up quickly against the underside of his dick. He takes in a deep breath, watching Bucky’s hands work the cage and get it settled in place.

“That okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve responds. “I hate this already.”

“Oh,” Bucky sings. “It’ll get worse.”

“What!”

Bucky just laughs, grabbing the sound and lubing up the tip graciously. “If you want me to stop, what do you say?”

“Red or eagle,” Steve answers obediently.

“Good boy.”

Bucky brings his fingers over Steve’s tip and gently massages along the slit.

Steve drops his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. His body relaxes into the mattress again. Bucky’s hands are warm and slicked up. He feels Bucky press a finger against his slit, holding the base of his cock with his other hand.

“That feels good,” Steve mumbles.

Bucky doesn’t answer. He swirls his fingers along the tip again, letting his nail run along the sensitive skin a few times.

“God I wanna come,” Steve rushes out. He sits up, using his trembling arms to try to steady himself as he watches Bucky bring the sound to his slit.

“Don’t come, baby,” Bucky instructs. “You ready?”

Steve takes a deep breath, nodding.

Bucky pushes the tip of the sound into his urethra with ease. It stings and makes Steve feel like he’s pissing himself. The warmth rushes through him from his groin up to his face. He hisses, watching the metal elongate his cock. “Oh….oh God…”

“You okay?” Bucky asks, pausing.

“I like it,” Steve admits. “I fuckin’ like it.”

Bucky smirks. He dips down to press a kiss to Steve’s thigh and lets the sound bottom out before hooking the tip to the last ring at the top of Steve’s cock. He flicks it and Steve’s cock sways with the cage.

Steve’s staring in amazement at the cock cage. His cock is red and swollen and perfectly filled up with the sound. He feels it trying to work around the sound as it stretches and acclimates to the intrusion.

“I wanna plug in my ass,” Steve whispers, his eyes rounding when he realizes what he’s said. He smacks his hands over his mouth, allowing his back to fall to the bed.

Bucky barks out a laugh, kissing Steve’s thighs again. “I mean, I can’t keep that in there for three days.”

“I really like feeling full,” Steve explains. “I guess it’s kinda weird I haven’t tried this before.”

“Well,” Bucky begins. He picks up one of Steve’s legs and kisses the sole of Steve’s foot. “I can definitely work with that.” He kisses Steve’s ankle. “Shove a sound in you.” Another kiss to Steve’s calf. “And a nice thick plug.”

Steve moans. Bucky kisses the bend behind Steve’s knee.

“Then shove a gag in your mouth.”

Steve’s cock is straining in the cage, desperate to feel release as Bucky puts beautiful pictures in Steve’s mind. Every hole all filled up nice. Steve shivers. He wants this. He fucking needs it.

Bucky drops Steve’s leg before scooting up between Steve’s thighs and presses his clothed cock against Steve’s.

Steve yelps. Tiny jolts of pain sear from his cock as the sound is pushed back by Bucky’s weight.

“Or maybe we can see how many dildos I can fit in your mouth and ass?” Bucky kisses up Steve’s stomach and then laps at a nipple.

Steve jerks upright, his limbs a gooey mess as they try to lift and wrap around Bucky. His mind is going hazy again and all he wants is to know the exact amount of dildos his ass can take before he’s screaming from the strain.

“You want that?” Bucky asks, nibbling softly at Steve’s clavicle.

Steve nods.

“Words, Kitten,” Bucky whispers, nipping up Steve’s neck. “Fuck you’re so pretty.”

Steve moans, dropping his head to the side to let Bucky have easier access. “Dildos…yeah.”

“Yeah you want that?”

“G-green,” Steve finally gets out.

Bucky moves off of Steve and pulls Steve over onto him. He runs his fingers idly through Steve’s hair, kissing the top of his head. “I’ll getcha full if you like feelin’ full.”

“Mhmmm.” Steve nuzzles into Bucky, letting his eyes close. His cock feels heavy as the cage settles against him. He’s still hard, probably may even stay that way from the sound but he doesn’t care in the slightest. Bucky knows when to give him what he needs. Bucky will fuck him if he’s good. He just wants Bucky’s goddamn cock in his ass. It’s the most refreshing and beautiful thing Steve has to focus on right now. Not the depositions, not the trial or the media: Bucky’s dick slipping up inside him. That’s all he wants to focus on and for now, he’s content to nestle into Bucky’s arms and let the man keep running his fingers through his hair. He’s content to dwell on the certainty of their first time, instead of the uncertainty of his trial.

* * *

_‘Well we’ve heard just about everything when it comes to Steven Rogers and the fateful act of violence that left two young men, Edward Brock and Harry Osborn, dead. There’s a light at the end of the tunnel! The other two victims, Flash Thompson and William Baker, are expected to make full recoveries. We have word from Thompson’s attorney that he will be pressing assault charges with attempted murder. I’m Shirleen Allicot and this is ABC 7, Eyewitness News.’_

_-Shirleen Allicot, ABC 7 Eyewitness News, New York, New York (2015)._

 

Standing in front of the door is like standing in front of a volcano. Steve feels his heart up in his throat, practically screaming at him not to jump. The apartment is his sanctuary where no one can hurt him. No one can see him. He’s safe here. But if he jumps from this ledge, if he wanders out of his sanctuary, then he’ll be at the mercy of eyes and _people_. They all know. He looks at his hands, wringing them until they’re red and swollen.

“Steve,” Bucky says behind him. Bucky takes his hands and kisses each fingertip. “What do your hands look like?”

“Yours,” Steve whispers. “I– um. I don’t wanna go. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t have a choice, baby.”

“Please not yet. Please, please I’m begging you.”

Bucky’s eyes are misty and full of compassion. Steve knows that if there was another way, Bucky would take it. He trusts Bucky enough to fall from this ledge into the pit of the volcano. Bucky’ll be with him. Steve just wishes it didn’t have to happen. He wants nothing more than to fall into bed and let Bucky hold him.

“How’s your cock feeling?” Bucky asks, tugging Steve from the doorway so he can turn to lock the apartment.

“Hard,” Steve replies. “I could pee just fine though– with the sound in.”

“Good,” Bucky says, pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Tomorrow you’ll have your deposition and then we’ll get to take the cage off.” He pushes Steve up against the wall, putting a knee between Steve’s thighs. “And what happens after that, Kitten?”

Steve’s already shivering, feeling his body go languid and warm. “Y-you’ll fuck me. Bucky I– Sir, I'm–”

“Shh,” Bucky coos, running his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “You’re gonna do great. Matt and Foggy are good guys.”

“That’s not it,” Steve responds, looking into Bucky’s eyes with more desire than he should out in the open. No one’s around in the empty hallway but the threat of the elevator opening at any second is kind of exciting. The idea of getting caught is thrilling, even if the actual reality of it would be horrifying. “I just wanted to say how excited I am to feel you inside me, Sir.”

Bucky growls approvingly, pressing a chaste kiss to Steve’s lips. Together they move into the elevator. Bucky presses the button and they wait in silence as they descend.

Steve’s cock _is_ hard. He had to painfully tape it to his leg to keep himself from looking like he’s walking around with a tent in his pants. He hasn’t told Bucky about that, but he’s pretty sure Bucky already knows. He’s looked to Steve’s crotch a few times before looking back up with a smile.

The elevator stops at the lobby and they go out. It’s the first time Steve’s seen people since he was brought from the prison– since his home was taken from him. There are reporters outside. They look bored and are talking to each other.

Bucky walks up to one of the security guards. “I thought I told y’all no reporters.”

“Someone tipped them off,” the guard says. “I’ve got a cab waiting for you though. I’ll pay the meter if you hurry.”

“You’re a doll, Coulson,” Bucky praises, nudging the security guard. “Oh, Steve. This is Coulson. He’s in charge of security around this dump.”

“Dump?” Steve laughs. “These are some of the nicest apartments in Manhattan.” Steve shakes Coulson’s gloved hand.

“I take my job seriously, Steve,” Coulson explains. “If you need anything, please ask me. I’ll do whatever I can to make your time here as smooth as possible.”

“Thank you,” Steve replies, his heart swelling. It’s nice to see someone who doesn’t look at him like he’s a murderer. He was expecting everyone outside of Bucky’s apartment to throw stones at him and spit in his face. The reporters are just outside the door, though. Steve’s pretty sure there’s still time for anything. His spine tingles at the thought.

“I’ll see ya later,” Bucky says as he waves off Coulson and grabs Steve by the elbow. He pulls Steve close but that’s nothing new when there’s a gaggle of newscasters right outside. Attorneys pull their clients through crowds all the time.

“Bucky,” Steve says, gripping Bucky’s arm. “I’m scared.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky reassures. “Just look at me or look straight ahead. Just not down. Okay? Don’t look down.”

“Okay,” Steve says as they burst through the door. The reporters all scramble up. Coulson’s got some security out here, and they raise their hands to block the reporters from getting right in Steve and Bucky’s way.

The cameras are flashing, clicking, and the phones are making that silly camera sound. People are babbling all at once and Steve’s not really sure he can pick out a single sentence until…

“Steve, did you hear that Flash Thompson is pressing charges against you for attempted murder?”

Steve looks to Bucky, who just scowls and pulls Steve further to the car. They take no questions and get into the back of the cab with the assistance of one of the security team.

Steve sits there, staring at the back of the seat in front of him, his eyes open but not seeing. He’s in his head, repeating those words over and over again. He doesn’t have a lot of money. He honestly doesn’t have any money. His GI Bill covered him for school but that’s probably gone now. He’s not even sure if it covered him for this semester or not anymore, which means he could have student loans to pay back. He doesn’t have a job. His mom isn’t the richest person on the planet. He’s fucked. He’s so utterly fucked. There’s nothing he can do to get out of this.

His stomach flips and he crumples in on himself, cringing and groaning.

“Hey, what’s up Steve?” Bucky’s voice echoes into Steve’s mind but it feels far away.

Steve had been foolish to think that even for a second his life would ever be back to the way it was before. He’ll be scarred by this case for the rest of his life. People won’t believe he was defending someone. Employers won’t hire him. He’s ruined. There’s no escaping this, even if he gets acquitted.

“You heard!” Steve swallows roughly, pressing his hands to his face. His murderous hands. They’ve always been too big. Too long, too clunky. Too _wrong_.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, wrapping an arm around Steve. “I’ll get you through this.”

Steve ignores everything else Bucky says. He feels like he’s stuck inside a waterfall. The sounds echo off his body, off the walls of the car around him. It’s so loud. Everything is so loud. There’s a tightness in his chest and he feels like he’s going to burst. His life is over. Everything…

It’s all over.

* * *

“Steve?” the man with the sunglasses asks. He’s cocking one brow and Steve knows he’s supposed to be answering something. He just can’t bring himself to open his mouth. “He can’t go to trial like this.” The man, Matt, Matt’s his name. He turns to look up at Bucky– or Steve thinks he does. He is blind… Is it wrong of Steve not to know? He doesn’t really know how to act around blind people. He’s never met a blind person before.

“Steve, you need to listen to Matt’s questions.” Bucky folds his arms over his chest. He looks just about as tired as Steve feels. Steve could lift a finger and flick at Bucky and he’d just burst into crumbles of sand. They’re both tired and the trial hasn’t even started. “Hey, you with us?”

Steve’s fingers and toes are tingling. He’s cold but he knows the room is warm. There’s a heater in the corner that keeps making these rattling sounds. It’s supposed to be warm. “I can’t breathe.”

Bucky clicks his tongue. He moves to sit by Steve and grabs Steve’s hands. “I need you with us. I’ve gotta go to an evidentiary hearing and you need to focus on Matt’s questions.”

“Don’t leave me,” Steve says, his voice tight. He wants to reach up and cling to Bucky. That stupid cock cage is heavy against his dick and he can feel the sound working against his urethra muscles. He wants to moan but he’s too scared to indulge in how good it feels. Bucky needs to leave and Steve can’t stomach that. “Please don’t leave me.” He watches Matt’s impassive face, then looks up to the other one– Foggy. He only looks sympathetic. They’re good people. But Steve needs Bucky.

Bucky makes a sound in his throat. It’s pitchy but guttural and sounds so damn desperate. He doesn’t want to leave. It’s so clear in the way he’s trembling as he clutches Steve’s hands. “What are these?”

Steve blinks.

“What are these?” Bucky asks again.

“My hands,” Steve answers.

“And what do they look like?”

“Y-yours.”

Bucky smiles before letting go. Steve goes cold as ice as Bucky stands up and moves to whisper something into Foggy’s ear. Steve hates Foggy for those few seconds that Bucky’s breath is that close to his neck.

“Steve, I need you to answer my question,” Matt reminds him. “Tell me what you thought you saw?”

“What I know I saw,” Steve corrects with a bite to his words. He clenches a fist, staring at Matt. Blind or not, he’d still sock Matt in the face if he started implying Steve was somehow lying about all of this.

“Steve,” Bucky chides. “He’s pretending to be the prosecutor. We need you to get used to that. They’re gonna try to trip you up. That’s why we’re here practicing.”

Steve bites his lip. He bites down so hard he’s pretty sure he can feel the skin break as he tastes copper.

“Steve…” Bucky’s voice sounds pained. Steve would pay with the very skin on his back to know the thoughts going through Bucky’s head right now. He imagines they’re all about him. He wants them to be. Steve’s thoughts are all about Bucky.

He hates being out here. He wants to go back into Bucky’s apartment and hide away under his pile of blankets. He wants to cook dinner with Bucky and tease him over a bowl of white rice and chicken or whatever healthy food Bucky wants. He doesn’t want to be here anymore.

“Steve, what do you think you saw that night?” Matt asks again.

Steve stares at Bucky. “A rape.”

“Who was getting raped?”

“Gwen Stacy. I know because she has blonde hair and I saw her. I heard her.”

“Are you sure it was rape? Not just rough-housing?” Matt prods.

“I know what I saw damn it!” Steve snaps back, slamming his fist on the table.

“Hey!” Bucky runs over to Steve, grabbing his shoulders and letting his fingers slide down to the crooks of Steve’s elbows. “We know. We trust you, okay? These are just practice questions. You’ve gotta be ready, Steve.”

“I don’t wanna do this,” Steve whimpers. Tears are filling his eyes and he hates himself. He hates that he can’t keep himself composed for five minutes. The world is around him and they all _know_ who he is and what he’s done. He’s only safe with Bucky– inside that apartment. It’s the only place where Steve can feel like he’s a person and not a ruthless murderer. Even Matt and Foggy are nervously twitching around Steve. Bucky’s the only one who can make Steve feel like a person. “I wanna go home. Please– I wanna go home.”

Bucky’s lips part. He looks over to Matt and Foggy and then he turns back to look at Steve. “I’ll take you home, but I’ve got evidentiary hearings for your case. You’ll be alone most of the day.”

“That’s fine.” Steve latches onto those words. Take him home. Take him _home_. “Please, I’m seeing red.”

Bucky’s eyes widen and Steve knows he understands. Red. _Red_. He stands up, but he doesn’t take his hand away from Steve’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Thanks for helpin’ out. I’ll go through some practice questions with him tomorrow. This is just too much for him.”

Matt nods.

“Karen wrote up some possible questions. I can print them out for you?” Foggy asks.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” Bucky helps Steve stand up, wrapping an arm around him. “We’re goin’ home. I’m just gonna get those questions okay? Is that okay?”

Matt’s head twitches a little. Steve’s fairly sure it’s because of Bucky’s behavior. He’s babying Steve and Steve’s pretty damn sure Bucky’s never been so soft with another client. Thank God Matt’s blind. Steve hates himself more for even thinking such a thought.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Bucky whispers.

Steve nods, but starts shaking when Bucky’s warmth leaves him. He knows they’re leaving. He knows they’re going back to the safety of Bucky’s apartment but Steve can’t stop. He’s so afraid here. He feels violated even though Matt hasn’t even touched him. He feels like Foggy would rather be anywhere but here and Steve doesn’t blame him. They’re good people. But Steve can’t be here right now. He wants to go home. He wants to crawl into Bucky’s arms and just cry and hate everything. He wants to punch Flash Thompson for suing him. That’s a bad idea. He almost killed him. But that’s how Steve feels! He just feels so powerless and he _hates_ it.

“Ready?” Bucky asks, taking Steve’s arm.

Steve can’t even find the words as relief rushes over him like a tidal wave, sweeping him up and carrying him away as they make their way for the door.

* * *

Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 2sec  
Did anyone else see Steve Rogers' pics today? He looked so scared… [#RescueRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/ch3daisy1.jpg_zpsckhp3vko.png)

Mack Mackenzie @MackMackenziee – 4min  
My heart has never broken so hard for a guy I didn’t know. [#RescueRogers](http://i1188.photobucket.com/albums/z406/akirakisho/Stucky%20Letters/ch3mack2.jpg_zpshpckdcam.png)

When Bucky finally gets home, Steve falls to the floor in front of him and begins to cry. He doesn’t care about the sound forcing his dick to stay erect. He doesn’t care about the cage that’s tight against his sensitive skin. He was out in the world where people were looking at him, but they weren’t looking at him the way Bucky does and he hated it. He doesn’t want to go back out. He doesn’t want to go to his depositions. He doesn’t want to go to trial. He just wants to plead guilty and be done and hide in a hole and pray that no one’s going to look at him again.

Bucky falls next to him, pulling him into his arms, and just strokes his fingers through his hair. He rocks Steve steadily, hands sliding back and forth along Steve’s scalp. It feels so good. Bucky’s the only good thing Steve has and he can’t hold onto him. He can barely deal with being out among Bucky’s friends just to practice a deposition. He’ll lose everything. It’ll all be over.

“W’d’you need?” Bucky slurs. “Tell me what you need, Kitten?”

Steve just shivers, hot tears sliding down his face and dampening Bucky’s button down.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers, pressing kisses to Steve’s crown. “C’mon baby. Ya gotta talk to me.”

Steve just squeezes around Bucky’s middle as hard as he can. He knows it’s probably uncomfortable to Bucky, but he needs to feel how real Bucky is. Bucky’s the only one who looks at Steve like a person. He’s not some ferocious killer to Bucky. He’s not some pity party. He’s a man and a human and Bucky respects him.

“Steve…”

“Wanna be in your lap,” Steve whimpers. “Want you to pet me. I hated being alone. They’re all– they’re all talkin’ about me and I hate it.” He shoves his face into Bucky’s chest and lets out another loud sob.

Bucky just squeezes Steve. “Okay, Kitten.” He helps Steve stand and guides him into the bedroom. Steve flashes a look of confusion Bucky’s way. Bucky just holds up a hand and shrugs. “I don’t want you on that couch tonight, or ever again. You sleep with me, okay?”

Steve just nods, sniffling.

Bucky offers a pained smile before moving Steve to sit on the bed. “Do you want out of your clothes?”

Steve nods again.

Bucky starts stripping Steve, tugging his polo over his head, shucking the pants off. Steve never bothered to change after the practice deposition. He’s been glued to the TV and social media, watching everything anyone was saying about him. He wishes he hadn’t. He’d been a mess without Bucky here and now it was all coming to an ugly head.

“Do you wanna be naked?”

Steve nods for the third time.

Bucky gently pulls off Steve’s briefs. “I’m gonna change into pajama pants, okay? Then I’ll be right back.”

Steve isn’t sure he knows how to do anything but nod and feel sorry for himself. So he does just that while Bucky moves away. He watches Bucky tear off his button down and let his blazer crumple to the floor. His dress pants are neatly pressed but he doesn’t seem to care as he flings them to the side of the room. He’s in just his boxers and Steve wants to suck on that cock so badly, just hold it in his mouth and know that Bucky’s there. He whimpers, his body convulsing from how desperate he is to keep Bucky close.

Bucky shoves himself into sweats and practically dives onto the bed. He pulls Steve’s naked body into him, letting Steve curl up atop him. “Oh baby… God, you’re shaking so bad. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry– I should’ve been here.”

Steve just presses his face into Bucky’s chest. He pushes his nose against that strong sternum, feeling fingers scratch along his scalp. Bucky’s hands. Hands no different than Steve’s. Steve doesn’t have vile hands. They’re just hands. Bucky said so… Bucky said…

So why is it so hard to believe?

“Bucky,” Steve mumbles against the man’s chest. “I want you. I want you. I want you, please, please…” He’s moving his legs out, coming to straddle Bucky and letting his heavy cock drag along Bucky’s torso.

Bucky hisses, but he doesn’t stop Steve. He’s looking up at him with fear-filled eyes. Steve almost feels guilty for how much abuse of his own station he’s doing. These weren’t Bucky’s rules. He’s pushing them aside and spitting on them like he does everything else. Thou shalt not kill…

Steve spit on God’s rules too.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps. “Don’t do this.”

Steve digs his fingers into Bucky’s chest, growling. “Why the fuck not?! Am I not pretty enough? Am I too big? I’m too big ain’t I?”

“What? No!” Bucky sits up, holding himself up with hands extended backward. “Steve you’re perfect. And you are pretty.”

“Why don’t you want me,” Steve whines, dropping his face against Bucky’s shoulder. “You don’t want me to touch you.”

“I do want you to touch me.” Bucky’s breathing shallowly. Steve can feel the heat between them and it’s enough to want to make Steve scream. He needs this intimacy. He needs Bucky to take over so he won’t be left with his thoughts but he can’t figure out how to make the man _do something_. He just needs him to fucking _do something_.

“Then let me,” Steve wails, pushing his caged cock along Bucky’s abdomen and up to his navel. “Please.”

“I’m not gonna fuck you,” Bucky says, running his fingers through Steve’s hair. “And you’ve been so bad all day. Do you realize that?”

Steve’s back clenches at those words. Yes, yes he has been. He’s been noncompliant, unruly and standoffish. Bucky noticed… Bucky noticed and he’s taking over and it’s going to be okay. Steve could laugh he’s so relieved.

“Do you?” Bucky asks sterner.

“Yes, Sir. I’ve been bad.”

“Get on your hands and knees. Can you do that?”

Steve moans, rubbing his caged cock up Bucky’s abs again. He can’t get a lick of sensation, but he can’t stop himself from doing it.

“Hands and knees, Kitten,” Bucky demands.

Steve pulls himself off Bucky, balancing on the bed just as Bucky asked him to. He’s got his head dropped low, watching Bucky stand behind him. Bucky looks like he’s walking on the ceiling and Steve laughs at the thought.

“What’s so funny, Kitten?” Bucky asks, squirting lotion into his hands. “You disrespecting me again?”

“No, Sir,” Steve whispers.

“I took you to meet my friends, Kitten.” Bucky places his hands on Steve’s ass. They’re cool and loaded with lotion. Steve shivers as Bucky starts massaging the lotion in. “They were supposed to help you. All you did was waste their time. You’re lucky they care about me, Kitten. That was very disrespectful.”

Steve moans.

Bucky clicks his tongue, clawing his nails into Steve’s ass and _dragging_ down to the thigh.

Steve wails, arching his spine and tossing his head back.

“You like that, Kitten? Maybe I should get a flogger?”

“Oh God!” Steve’s arms are trembling and it’s becoming harder and harder to stay balanced on the bed. What was once a sturdy mattress has become melting ice and snow and Steve’s not sure when he’ll fall into the waters below, but he knows he will.   

“Color, Kitten,” Bucky asks, scratching red lines down Steve’s ass to the backs of his knees.

“Green! Green, goddamn it, please, green.”

Bucky stands back, nodding. “Rule number one. We talk out our scenes.”

“Ah shit.” Steve drops forward as his arms officially give up. His ass is up in the air, humming and stinging from Bucky’s nails.

“I’m gonna hit you, Steve. Okay? I’ll get the riding crop and we’ll go slow. I’m not gonna hit you more than ten.”

“Okay,” Steve sobs. He needs this. He’s too far into his head and he needs something else to focus on. His body is pulsing with excitement and trepidation. He hopes it hurts. He hopes he bleeds. He needs anything other than the thoughts that berate his mind now. He wants to be anywhere but in his mind.

“After, I’m gonna rub aloe on you and we’re gonna get you to eat and drink. Okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” Steve replies.

Bucky reaches between Steve’s legs and gives a little tug on Steve’s caged cock. Steve gasps, his legs opening wider.

“And if you come from this, I won’t fuck you for a week,” Bucky promises, giving Steve’s cock another sharp tug before he leaves the room to grab the crop.

Steve’s laughing. He knows he shouldn’t, but it’s all so perfect. Bucky’s here with him and he’s bringing Steve back from his thoughts and the pain in Steve’s chest is going away slightly. It’s still there, but it’s more like a finger pressing into his chest rather than the grinding glass of before.

Bucky comes back into the room with the riding crop. “Hands and knees, Kitten, or do you wanna be on the floor?”

“S’fine,” Steve whispers. “Hit me.”

“Ten, Steve. If you need me to stop–”

“I know!” Steve growls out. “ _Hit me!_ ”

Bucky goes around to Steve’s face and grabs his jaw. He forces Steve to look him in the eyes. Steve finds himself leaning back on his haunches and whimpering.

“What’s rule number one, Kitten?”

“Talk it out,” Steve responds.

“And what am I doing?”

“…Talking it out.”

“So what do you do if you don’t want this anymore?”

“Red or eagle,” Steve explains.

“Good boy,” Bucky praises. He steps back, letting the riding crop ghost down Steve’s spine and over the crack of his ass. “You’re like a stallion, baby.” He taps the tip of the crop softly on Steve’s balls. It’s not enough to hurt, but it’s enough to send delicious panic and focus into Steve’s body.

Steve snaps to full attention, his mind completely focused on where that riding crop is and what it’s going to do.

“You’re so wild, Kitten.” Bucky traces the crop down between Steve’s thighs. “Gotta break you in, don’t I?”

Steve shivers, feeling his heart settle in his chest. He’s here. He’s focused right here and right now and Bucky’s the only thing that matters and it couldn’t be more beautiful.

“Gonna mark up that pretty ass of yours,” Bucky continues. “Get it nice and red. You’ve been so bad all day, huh? S’the only way, right Kitten?”

“Yes Sir,” Steve replies. He wiggles his ass in anticipation and Bucky playfully brings the crop down against a cheek. It barely stings, but it’s a reminder that it’s real and that it’ll happen. Steve used to wonder why he felt this way about impending pain or the loss of control. It used to scare him when he was in high school, how much he wanted others to boss him around and throw him up against lockers. He used to purposefully get in front of bulliesy just to be hit. He had no idea what a sub or Dom were and now, looking back? It all makes sense.

“You ready?”

“Yes, yes…green,” Steve purrs, dropping his head and arching his spine as gracefully as he can.

Bucky brings the crop down and it’s like lighting across Steve’s ass. It doesn’t just hurt there: it zooms up his spine and explodes over his shoulders. He cries out, his cock throbbing hard in the cage. He looks down, watching precome drip from the hollow sound.

Bucky uses a hand to smooth over the area he’s just hit. Then he steps back and Steve hears the crack echo into the air as he shouts. Two… Two glorious heated swats with the riding crop.

Steve’s trembling, falling onto his elbows and doing his best to hold his ass up in the air. He wants to rock back. He wants to thrust forward. He wants anything but the damn cage around his dick.

Another crack of the crop lights up nerves in Steve’s ass he didn’t even know existed. He shrieks out when Bucky doesn’t even soothe the pain this time. He just swats him again.

Four. Four and Steve’s already crying and doesn’t remember what he’s done to get himself into this. All he knows is he wants more. Bucky’s beautiful and powerful and he’s _above_ Steve.

“This good?” Bucky checks in. “You need more or less?”

“More,” Steve grits out. “ _Hit me_.”

Bucky laughs, but he does as he’s told. He cracks the crop down and Steve howls, his body going rigid as the pain shoots through him. He’s quivering, his knees going slack, and he sags onto the bed.

“That’s only five, Kitten,” Bucky says, helping Steve back into position. “Don’t tell me you wanna quit now…”

Steve tries to keep balanced, but it’s hard. He closes his eyes, breathing heavily as he does everything in his power to stay up on his knees. His cock is straining in the cage, his ass _protesting_ with all its might. But he needs this. He wants that delicious hot pain to scourge up his body and wreak havoc on his mind. He wants the fog that’s starting to creep into his vision and turn everything from pain to the pleasure he knows it’ll be. It always starts like this. Always.

Bucky hits him again and instead of shrieking, he moans. He thrusts his ass back, feeling the burn as the hot skin stretches over his muscles.

Steve doesn’t feel the pain the next time. His brain just goes quiet. He’s in a large cave. He hears a little echo, like the ocean in a shell. Heat is blossoming up his body and tears cloud his vision, or he thinks they do. He can’t see anything. He hears Bucky’s voice, but he can’t understand him. All Steve knows is to grit out, “Hit me…”

So Bucky does.

Steve’s chest rumbles as the pain dances along his skin, like a lover’s embrace that quickly turns to liquid wax and warms him deep into his soul. He feels the bed beneath him. Solid and warm come to meet his face. That echo of the ocean is still around him but it’s not overbearing. It’s gentle, just like the waves of heat that keep pulsating over his body.

His cock is wet. Something is drooling down between his legs but it’s too dark to see. Everything’s too dark and all he can do is feel. Hands start to massage his ass, cool at first, but the heat pulsing from his body warms them up. He hisses as stinging pain surges from his ass into his thighs. Bucky’s gentle voice is in the background of the echoing ocean waves. It’s soft and soothing but Steve still can’t make out the words.

Steve closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and holding it. He feels his heart beat, faster and harder as it struggles to relay oxygen to his brain. He feels those warm hands on his ass and knows they’re Bucky’s. When Steve opens his eyes, he lets go of the breath he was holding and blinks into the bedroom. Bucky’s bedroom is dark with heavy curtains and clothes are dotting the room. There’s a leather chair in the corner next to a bookcase.

“B-Bucky…” He pulls his legs up and hisses as the pain swats at him.

“Hey there baby doll,” Bucky greets. He’s got a bottle of aloe in his hands and a towel over a bare shoulder. Steve just wants to suck at that shoulder and put countless little love bites all along it. “You left me.”

“Oh.”

Bucky just laughs softly through his nose. “S’okay. I gotcha to ten.”

Steve smiles, humming when Bucky’s hands find his ass again with the cool aloe.

“You feel better? Was that okay?”

“Perfect,” Steve replies. His voice is hoarse and it stings to talk, but he knows this is important to Bucky. “Thank you.”

Bucky hums in affirmation, working the aloe into the welts. “You’re gonna feel these during your depo.”

“Don’t care.”

Bucky laughs again. He walks around the bed and kneels on the floor, resting his chin on his arms. “You’re a beautiful screamer.”

Steve just smiles.

“We need to change the sheets. Can you stand yet or do you want me to wait?”

“I can stand.” Steve goes to lift himself up when his limbs turn to mush and he just flounders atop the bed. Bucky cocks a brow at him but stays silent. “Fuck…”

“I think I don’t want you alone anymore,” Bucky says. “Steve, wait. Don’t try to get up. Just wait, okay?”

Steve stills, watching Bucky.

“I can’t leave you alone after today. I don’t–” He runs his fingers through his hair. His bangs drop against his forehead. “Do you think one of your friends would wanna come visit you?”

Steve’s eyes widen.

“Would that be okay?”

“But if they’re here– then me n’ you?”

“I know,” Bucky relinquishes. He grabs Steve’s shaking hand, kissing the knuckles. “But I can’t let you get that low again. I shouldn’t have let you get that low.”

“You were workin’.”

“Yeah, and I knew better. I saw all the signs but I just thought it was you being scared. I didn’t think–” He cuts himself off, biting his lips. “I’d rather you had someone here when I can’t be. Doesn’t need to be all the time. So which friend, Kitten?”

“Sam,” Steve says without a moment’s hesitation.

Bucky nods. He sits back, stroking his fingers over Steve’s knuckles. “Anything you want me to do different next time?”

Steve just smiles. He’s got the best Dom on the planet. “Yeah, fuck me.”

Bucky just rolls his eyes. “Steve Rogers, you little shit.”

Steve just brings Bucky’s hand to his lips to kiss. He hears a soft gasp from Bucky but he doesn’t look up till each knuckle has met his lips. He sucks his lips in, pressing them together and getting them slick with spit. “Kiss me,” he finally says, looking up.

Bucky doesn’t even hesitate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudo!  
> Add me on [tumblr!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	4. Motion to Amend Plea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky learns that Steve's case isn't at all what it seemed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for no links this time! I'm rushing and being lazy.
> 
> Half this chapter was beta'd by my beta, [nataliarushman](http://nataliarushman.tumblr.com/). And half by me...I hope. So the typos are probably because of me. I kind of rushed because I'm going on vacation and wanted this up beforehand :D
> 
> Enjoy~
> 
>  **LAW JARGON!**  
>  Deposition: A deposition involves a witness/party being asked questions about the case. The deposition has two purposes: To find out what the witness knows and to preserve that witness' testimony. The intent is to allow the parties to learn all of the facts before the trial, so that no one is surprised once that witness is on the stand.

_“Tonight on Eyewitness News 7, Sarah Rogers speaks out about her son: from skinny and wild to a decorated war veteran. Where did it all go wrong? You’ll find out tonight. I’m Shirleen Allicot, and this is ABC 7 Eyewitness News.”_

_-Shirleen Allicot, ABC 7 Eyewitness News, New York, New York (2015)._

Deposition day. The thought of Steve being grilled by the prosecution sends panicked shivers down Bucky’s spine. He’s staring at himself in the mirror, flicking his tongue around in his mouth for something to do. Steve was so scared during a simple practice depo and now the real thing is staring them down with ugly eyes and heated breath. Bucky doesn’t want to do this. He looks over at Steve’s sleeping form, curled up on his side of the bed. _His_ side. Bucky smiles, listening to the soft rhythm of Steve’s breathing. If it weren’t drastically illegal, Bucky would be scooping Steve up and getting them both on a plane to somewhere far away right now. But it’s, again, _drastically_ illegal and Bucky knows he can’t fight off the inevitable much longer.

He slides over to Steve, dipping the bed a bit. He wraps his arms around Steve’s chest and pulls the man into him. Steve grumbles but he’s boneless and content to just push his little ass back into Bucky’s groin.

“Wake up, Kitten.” Bucky’s lips are at Steve’s ear and he darts his tongue out along the shell. “We’ve got a big day.”

Steve just grumbles again, pushing his face into the pillow.

Bucky laughs softly, running his hand up and down Steve’s back now. “It’s depo day.”

“I’d sell my soul to the devil if I could, just to stay here for three more minutes.” Steve’s voice is raspy and full of apprehension, but Bucky can’t help but smile.

“Just think about what’ll happen after it’s all over though.” Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Me– naked. You on your knees and I’ll trace your pretty little lips with my cock.”

Steve whines into the pillow.

“I’ll let you come as many times as you want, Kitten.” Bucky’s lips pull back into a Cheshire grin.

“I hate you,” Steve says with a laugh. “But okay. That– um– that sounds nice.”

Bucky furrows his brow, chewing his lips in thought. Steve’s holding it together as much as he can, but Bucky can see the tension in Steve’s neck. He can feel how wound up this man is just from touching his smooth muscles. There’s a little whisper in Bucky’s mind wondering if Steve can even tolerate the cock cage during the depo.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. He brushes his hand over Steve’s forehead. He’s sleep warm but that’s nothing out of the ordinary for a man who just woke up. “I mean– down there.”

Steve sits up, looking down at his hard-on. He shrugs. Bucky knows Steve isn’t one to just tell him what’s really going on, and there’s a soft bit of panic in the pit of Bucky’s stomach about that. Steve pushes himself because of stubbornness and even curiosity. Bucky _has_ to keep asking or Steve will never tell.

“Steve–”

“I’m okay,” Steve interrupts. “It hurts a bit but I need that. It’ll keep me focused.” He looks down at his hands and starts wringing them. “Do you have any lotion we can bring?”

Bucky watches for a few silent moments. His heart is getting pushed in on itself and he’s not sure if it’ll just squeeze uncomfortably or explode. “What’re your hands?”

Steve bites his lower lip.

“Steve– what are your hands?” His voice is steady, like a father trying to educate a child. He holds his gaze despite how obvious it is that Steve’s uncomfortable and fidgeting beneath it.

“M-my hands.” Steve looks at his fingers. His voice is shaking and his eyes are already beginning to tear up. “M-my hands’re– they’re.” He chokes back a sob, dropping his face into his arms. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky scoots closer, pulling as much of Steve into his lap as he can. He strokes the man’s hair and gently scratches his neck. Steve’s body jerks and tenses as he tries to fight back his tears, but Bucky doesn’t comment on it. Steve’s so strong and this would take so much out of anyone. The world has strung Steve up on a cross and they call for his head. It burns at Bucky’s heart to know these people will never know Steve the way he does. Steve’s kind, self-sacrificial and intelligent. He’s warm and wants to see the beauty in a world that has tried so hard to destroy him. Even now he’s not cursing anyone’s existence. He’s not blaming anyone for the mess he’s in. He accepts it and is doing his best.

Bucky just wants to protect him. He wants to return Steve to a world of purity, one where he can breathe easily. A sharp tug pulls the thought from Bucky’s mind. Steve will never breathe easily again. He’ll always be scarred from this experience. Even the sight of Bucky will remind him of why they met.

“I’m so sorry, Steve.” He pulls Steve into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry I have to make you do this.”

Steve’s still in his embrace, but he’s not pulling away. “S’okay. Not your fault.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

While they get Steve ready, Bucky feels like someone is strapping cinderblocks to his feet. He waits to be thrown into the ocean.

* * *

MSNBC @MSNBC – 5min  
BREAKING: The State v. Steven Rogers begins depositions today. Msnbc.com/1depoPk

Bucky keeps his hand wrapped around the back of Steve’s neck. It raises some eyebrows but no one comments. Client control is vastly important in the legal field and no one would fault Bucky for offering some kind of reassurance to his client– even if he won’t _stop_ touching him. It’s nice to hide in plain sight sometimes. Attorneys occasionally do weird things for clients; he’s pretty sure the prosecution has some wild stories too.

“You doin’ okay?” Bucky asks, nudging Steve gently. “We can go to the bathroom and get– that thing– off if you need to.” He looks around the room to make sure no one’s listening to his hushed words.

Steve shakes his head. “I need it.” He swivels in his chair, biting his lip. Bucky sees the faint blush that creeps up onto his face. Bucky’s heart swells and he wants to watch that pigment flourish and swirl for eternity.

“We can take a break whenever you need it– if you need it.”

Steve nods.

Jen Walters sits down across the table. She’s wearing a green blazer with a black top underneath that’s low-cut enough to show off her shiny necklace. Bucky rolls his eyes. She used to be a supermodel before she decided the law was where her passion was. He used to admire that before she was the one he was up against. Now he just finds her even more of a threat. A stunning woman with stunning hair and clothes could… _stun_ a jury.

“Good morning,” she says casually. “You’ve been informed what a deposition is, yes?”

Steve nods and pushes his pelvis down against the chair. Bucky licks his lips. He wants to know if Steve’s trying to hurt himself or pleasure himself.  

“I’m filing a motion for extension,” Bucky says. “There’s another witness that I think we’ve got a lead on. I’ll send you the memo later today?”

Jen nods. “Who is it? Maybe we’ve already contacted them.”

Bucky sits back and crosses his arms. “I’m not ready to give that out just yet. I’ll send the memo.”

Jen tilts her head. She looks like she wants to argue, but they’re not here for that. This is to depose Steve and that’s exactly why Bucky decided to bring up Peter Parker in this way. She can’t push the issue when time is of the essence to depose the defendant. It’s a small victory, but it’s one Bucky takes to heart and cradles happily.

“State your name for the record.” Jen clicks her pen and straightens out her legal pad.

Steve looks at Bucky with big pleading eyes. He’s on the verge of another breakdown and this time Bucky can’t just take him home. His eyes are red and he’s three shades paler than is healthy. Bucky’ll make sure he eats a big lunch later. Maybe he can even get Steve into the bath. He knows he’s supposed to fuck Steve tonight, but it doesn’t sit right in Bucky’s gut. He wants to worship Steve, show him love and that he’s not alone. He doesn’t want a hard scene. Steve’s not going to be in the right mental state, but Bucky made a promise and Steve’s been eager for it. But Bucky has a _duty_ to this man…

“Steve Rogers–”

“Full name please.” Jen starts jotting down his name. She already knows the answer, but the law is nothing if not one giant formality.

Steve clears his throat. “Steven Grant Rogers.”

“Address?”

“I–”

“He’s currently homeless,” Bucky interjects. “You know that I’ve been sheltering him.”

Jen nods, her gaze flicking back to Steve in what looks like sympathy. “Do you know why you’re here today?”

Steve sits back. “It’s a deposition.”

Bucky presses his lips together to keep from laughing. No matter the stress Steve is under, he’s still going to sass the fuck out of everyone.

“No, do you know the reason why you’re here that a depo was even needed?”

Bucky narrows his eyes. She’s going at this at a funny angle, but he can’t object just yet. Bucky looks over to the court reporter, who’s quickly typing everything that’s being said. Luckily his media injunction has kept the press out of the deposition. They’re all lingering outside like wolves. Bucky’s never wanted to take a baseball bat to someone’s face so much before…

“I’m– uh– Because of what happened.”

“And what happened?”

“Objection,” Bucky says. “Leading and overbroad.”

The court reporter keeps typing but nods.

“The day when you were at the bar, do you recall the events that led up to the incident?” Jen asks.

“He said objection.” Steve furrows his brows, looking tinier than Bucky’s ever seen him. He’s become so used to Steve looking too big or out of place. Right now, a gentle breeze could blow Steve away.

“She just had to rephrase the question,” Bucky explains. “Just answer it as directly as you can.” Bucky wants to kick himself. He’s been so preoccupied with this new relationship that he never actually sat down with Steve to explain objections. They tried to do a fake deposition but even that exploded in Bucky’s face. The Rules of Ethics are glaring at Bucky right now. _Do not sleep with your client_ … There is a reason for that and here Steve is, already paying the price.

“Harry, Eddie and two other guys were tugging on Gwen’s clothes and saying inappropriate things to her.” Steve slouches in the chair. He looks at Bucky, his eyes shining with fear.

Bucky squeezes the back of Steve’s neck before letting go. He can’t keep hold throughout the entire depo, but he can push his foot up against Steve’s. He does so and Steve wraps his foot around Bucky’s. It’s hidden beautifully by the table. Bucky can’t shield Steve entirely, but he can provide some kind of comfort. It’s the best he can do given the circumstances.

“What were they saying?” Jen scoots forward to lean on her hand.

“Uh– bad stuff. ‘C’mon baby it’ll be fun. You’ll like it.’ Stuff like that.”

“Did it ever occur to you that she was in on the act? That it was part of their game?”

“Objection. Speculation.”

Jen sits back, clicking her pen a few times. She nods before looking back at her notes. “I have it here that you told the police they were raping her. Gwen has never alleged rape. There’s also no hospital visit or completed rape kit.”

“I said they were going to, not that they were already doing it.” Steve tenses. His foot pushes into Bucky’s almost painfully. “They were on top of her already and pulling at her clothes.”

“But Gwen hasn’t alleged rape.”

“Objection!” Bucky leans forward, scoffing. “Whether she presses charges or not, rape can happen without a case.”

Jen smirks. “Okay, Steve. On the evening in question, what were you doing beforehand?”

“Objection, vague.” Bucky purses his lips, his eyes flashing with unspoken challenge. If she’s going to grill Steve over every little aspect of this, he’s going to make her jump through hoops for it.

“What were you doing within the hour that led up to the incident?” Jen rephrases. Her tone is clipped and she keeps clicking her pen. Good. Bucky wants her annoyed.

“I was just– um– I was enjoying a beer with my friend, Sam Wilson. Nothin’ fancy.”

Jen tilts her head to the side. “Did Sam Wilson see what happened?”

“Objection. This is Steve’s depo, not Sam’s.”

“You gonna object to everything I ask?” Jen hasn’t wiped that smirk off her face since she plastered it up, and Bucky’s damn certain he’s going to hate her expression by the time this is over.

He leans forward, pressing his fingers to the table. “If you keep asking shitty questions.”

“Counselor,” the court reporter warns.

Bucky huffs, but sits back. “Continue.”

“Thank you, _counselor_.” Jen turns back to Steve. She smoothes down a side of her hair and looks to her legal pad. “What led you to believe a rape was occurring?”

“Gwen was saying no. No means no, ma’am.”

Jen’s smirk falters and there’s a moment of almost agreement. She swallows, nodding to his words. “Did you believe her life was in danger?”

“Yes.”

Bucky smiles. He’s glad that Steve isn’t a talker. Lots of witnesses get nervous and just keep talking, but Steve’s whole goal is to get the information out as quick as possible and be done with it so he can go home. Maybe the cock cage really _is_ doing its job.

“Why did you believe her life was in danger when you saw them with her?”

Bucky bunches his lips to the side. It’s a slightly repetitive question, but he lets it slide.

“Because she was _saying_ no.” Steve broadens his shoulders a little, looking at Jen as if he can’t understand why they’re even having this conversation. Bucky admires Steve for that– his outright stubborn belief that things are often exactly as they look. It’s naïve but Bucky appreciates it anyway.

“And why did you feel the need to intervene?”

“Objection.” Bucky’s voice is like a feather in the air. He’s almost tired of hearing himself say the word.

“What did you see that made you intervene?”

Steve slumps forward. He’s wringing his hands and Bucky has to hold himself back from reaching out and cupping them. “I– There was– It’s–” He huffs, circling his hips on the chair. A shuddered gasp– barely there– escapes his lips. “I got angry they weren’t listening to her. A buncha guys preyin’ on a girl like that. S’not okay. No one was doing anything and I _had_ to.”

“Why did you feel obligated?” For once, Jen’s voice sounds sympathetic, like there’s a heart attached to that voice box.

“Because if I didn’t, she’d have been hurt. I can’t sit by and watch people get hurt when I know I can save them.”

“Do you feel you saved Gwen?”

Bucky doesn’t object. He doesn’t have the heart to stop a moment where Steve could actually shine, even if the question isn’t relevant.

“She’s alive, right?” Steve offers a small smile, like that’s all he needs to know. Gwen’s out there smearing his name and Steve doesn’t regret what he did. He’s unreal and Bucky can’t help but stare at him as if he’s seeing him for the first time.

The world doesn’t deserve Steve Rogers.

Jen goes about clicking her pen a few times again. She sighs before saying, “I have to ask you some pretty gruesome questions now, Steve. Do you want to take a break first?”

Steve looks at Bucky, waiting. It takes Bucky a few moments to realize Steve’s asking Bucky to make the decision. He straightens out his tie, nodding. “Uh, yeah. Yeah we need a minute.”

Jen and the court reporter leave the room. Steve lets out a long sigh. He presses his hands to the desk and keeps taking in big gulps of air.

“You’re doing great.” Bucky risks taking one of Steve’s hands and gives it a squeeze. “I’m so proud of you, Kitten.”

Steve smiles sheepishly. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

Steve takes in a shuddered breath. He turns to Bucky, chewing his chapped lips. “What if she asks something I don’t wanna answer?”

“You have to.”

“But– That’s–” Steve looks away, folding his arms in his lap. “I don’t wanna do this.”

Bucky grimaces, pulling Steve in for a quick one-armed hug. He brushes his lips against Steve’s ear saying, “Just close your eyes when you don’t wanna answer it and get through as fast as possible. It’s easier. Answer in yes or no.”

Steve nods, pursing his lips. “Can I walk around?”

Bucky scoots back, offering out a hand. “Sure, let’s go get some water.”

* * *

The break is over before it even starts. Steve’s sitting on his chair, wringing his hands so badly they’re starting to crack. Bucky wants to reach out to stop him, but he can’t in front of Jen and the court reporter.

Jen sits on her chair like a lion ready to go for the kill. She’s got a glint in her eyes that Bucky can’t decide is madness or just excited. He thinks it’s probably both. Only a certain kind of human could delight in watching another’s emotional trauma like this.

“Okay Steve. Let’s talk about what happened.”

Steve swallows.

“You didn’t give much to the police. Said you blacked out. Can you describe this for me?”

Steve leans forward, picking at one of his fingernails. “It’s pretty self-explanatory. I was there and the next I just felt angry. Then I came to and I was gettin’ arrested.”

“So you claim to not remember breaking someone’s skull? Uh,” Jen flips some pages of her notes, “an Eddie Brock?”

Steve inhales deeply, it’s shaky and Bucky knows how much this hurts him. Steve’s skin is tight and stretched over his muscles. He’s so tense he may just snap. “No.”

“You don’t remember taking Eddie Brock and bashing his face into the sidewalk? His teeth fell out.”

“N-no,” Steve whines. His face is screwed up in horror. It’s a wretched moment when Bucky realizes what is happening. Steve _doesn’t_ remember. He’s hearing these things for the first time. The police never got a statement out of him, Bucky never asked him nor even thought Jen would ask such specific questions (shame on him for thinking she wouldn’t). The questions are completely relative. The prosecution has a right, but that doesn't make it any better to watch Steve break under such pressure. This is the _first_ time Steve’s truly hearing the details and it eats at Bucky’s heart like maggots on a corpse.

“Flash Thompson is alive. How do you feel about that?”

“Relieved. I–” Steve’s voice cracks. He runs his fingers through his hair, spiking it all over. “I didn’t mean to kill anyone.”

Oh no… Rambling… Bucky’s heart drops. He should reach out and stop him, but call Bucky a horrible person for wanting to hear what Steve has to say.

“I didn’t– They were just– They were there and they were _hurting_ her and–” He drops his hands to the table. Tears are in his eyes as he looks up at Jen. Shame drowns out every bit of youth and innocence Steve has left. “What was I supposed to do? No one listened to her screaming.”

Bucky grabs Steve’s shoulder, squeezing enough to get him to look Bucky’s way. All Bucky can do is offer a small smile and a tight nod. It stops Steve’s rambling. Steve’s been doing so well, and even this isn’t that bad. Bucky just doesn’t want him to babble out something that the prosecution could use. Depositions are designed to dig and twist into a person’s story. Bucky doesn’t want Jen doing too much digging.

Jen drops a picture. It’s Eddie’s toothless and bloody mouth. His skull is bashed in and most of his unrecognizable face is blue. Then she drops another. It’s Harry. His brain is seeping from the back of his skull. His eyes are still open, probably from the coroner for examination. They’re bloodshot. Bucky doesn’t know anything about head trauma but the bloodshot eyes make him wonder. Do head wounds generally create bloodshot eyes? He has to dig and find everything he can to mitigate Steve’s case.

Bucky starts trembling, gripping the chair as hard as he can. This is all entirely allowed. Jen’s allowed to bring _any_ evidence she has to help Steve answer her questions. But as Steve’s Dom, Bucky would rather eat the photos and let the ink churn in his stomach before he lets Steve look at them.

“So you decided that killing them was better than them having sex in a public forum with her?” Jen asked.

Bucky growls, glaring right at her. She glares right back. That is her tag line then. She’d won this depo far before Bucky even realized it. He sucks in a deep breath to keep from screaming at her. Can’t she see she’s hurting Steve? Does she even care? People always call the defense attorney scum and the prosecutor the hero, but what about now? What about men like Steve who just want to do the right thing and get– stuck. Men like Steve aren’t monsters. They’re men with too big of hearts and clumsy hands. _Beautiful_ and clumsy hands.

Steve closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. It’s just like Bucky suggested before they continued on. His hands are squeezed shut and Bucky can see a line of red from cracked skin. He’s bleeding. “Yes,” is all Steve says.

Bucky pulls away, dropping his head on the table. She’s got them cornered. Yes or no questions are how depositions generally work and she’d phrased it flawlessly. She’d pushed Steve into a corner too small for his wide shoulders and she’d beaten his psyche into oblivion.

Bucky has no idea how he’ll get them out of this. He has to though.

“Okay Steve, just a few more questions.”

* * *

Carol Danvers @CaptainCarolD – 3 min  
You know what smells good? Justice. #RottenRogers

Mack Mackenzie @MackMackenziee – 1 min  
Justice hasn’t taken a bath in months. It’s just as rotten as you claim Steve is. #RescueRogers

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 32 sec  
Okay but…that was a bad pun all over the place Carol.

Steve collapses into Bucky’s arms once they get to the elevator. Bucky can _still_ hear the crowd of reporters at the doors. Coulson’s got them blocked, but they’re so loud. Steve’s got his hands over his ears. He’s trembling like a man covered in ice.

“It’s okay, baby,” Bucky whispers, kissing Steve’s face. “I’ve gotcha. I’m here.” Bucky wraps his arms around Steve, kissing every bit of trembling skin he can find: neck, ears, forehead, nose, cheeks.

Steve’s whimpering softly, whispering words too slurred for Bucky to understand. His big fists are clinging to Bucky’s coat. Bucky can see how chapped his hands are. They’re red, cracked and bleeding. He’d been wringing them the entire time they’d been in the deposition. Jen was _relentless_. That wasn’t something Bucky would forget. She hurt Steve. When she’d gotten everything she needed, she kept going. That made Bucky her enemy. She could’ve stopped.

“Shh,” Bucky coos, stroking Steve’s hair. “You’re safe now. I’m right here, Kitten.”

She’d just made the worst mistake in hurting Steve like this. Bucky will never forgive her.

They get inside the apartment and Steve just falls to the floor. He’s not crying. His eyes aren’t even closed. He’s staring off into space like a man who is confused he’s not actually dead. Bucky kneels beside him, rubbing his back. He can’t imagine what Steve just went through. Jen poked and prodded at every detail. She’d shown Steve pictures, asked questions he didn’t know the answers to. She broke him and Bucky is certain she’d _meant_ to.

“Kitten,” Bucky murmurs. “Can you hear me?” He strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair.

Steve just blinks.

Bucky closes his eyes slowly, sitting back. They stay there in the tiny walkway to the apartment for longer than Bucky would like. His back starts to hurt, his tailbone is _throbbing_. Steve remains silent. He just lies on the floor like death is better than life. Bucky isn’t sure what to do. He wants to reach out and pull Steve from this, but he’s just so _gone_. Steve’s up in his head battling demons that Bucky’s never seen and the unfortunate truth of it all is that Bucky doesn’t know how to pull someone back when they’ve fallen this hard.

He pulls out his cell phone, tapping at it quietly.

_SOS. I’ve got a sub that won’t register me._

He keeps rubbing at Steve’s back, occasionally whispering that it’s all okay when everything is _not_. Steve’s life is on the line, his psyche is now extremely unstable and he’s got shit for counsel. Bucky hates himself. He should’ve stuck to the plan and did as any attorney does. _Represent_. He’s failed Steve. He thought this could help. He tried to mix business and pleasure and now it’s crumbling in on him. He should remove himself. He won’t– but he should.

His phone chirps. He kisses Steve’s head before leaning back to look at the text.

 _Get them into a bathtub now._ _Water just a little too cold for comfort._

Bucky bites his lip, tapping back quickly. _What?! COLD???_

The little green box appears almost instantly after he hits send: _I said COLD and NOW Barnes!_

Bucky looks over at Steve, wincing. “H-hey, Kitten?”

Steve doesn’t respond.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay? You tell me if you don’t want me to, yeah?” He kneels next to Steve, tugging under the man’s armpits and helping him up. Steve’s large and deadweight but Bucky can handle him. Thank _God_ he works out. It’s easier once they’re both up. Bucky hates this. His protective instincts just want to wrap Steve up in a blanket and hold him. He just wants to plant kisses all over Steve’s face. He doesn’t want to _hurt_ him with cold water. Every nerve in Bucky’s body is in a complete frenzy as he hobbles over through bedroom and to the bathroom.

Steve still hasn’t even registered he’s been moved.

Panic isn’t the right word for how Bucky feels. He’s cold, shaking and at the same time, he’s burning, buzzing and so very aware he’s alive. His heart is pumping blood so loudly that he can hear it woosh in his ears. He doesn’t understand how Steve can’t hear it. How can Steve not _feel_ it. It’s right there, humming under the skin and flying at the speed of light and Steve _still_ doesn’t move.

Bucky lets Steve slip onto the cold tiled floor. He sucks back air, looking Steve over. Steve’s still blinking. His shoulders are slumped and his hands’re just hanging there like seaweed stuck on a pole.

“Oh–” Bucky pants, “okay Steve… I’m gonna–” He sucks in another breath. “I’m gonna get you naked okay?”

Steve doesn’t say a word.

Bucky whines, conflict between consent and what this man needs battling in his brain. He starts unbuttoning Steve’s shirt, praying for some kind of affirmation that it’s okay. He would never forgive himself for this if things went south.

Fear makes Bucky’s fingers tremble, but he pops open the buttons easily enough. He reaches for Steve’s pants, groaning when he remembered the damn cock cage. “I don’t know what to do.” He leans back. “Shit. I don’t– I don’t know what to do.”

His mind’s a foggy mess of uncertainty. Gray masks Bucky’s mind with the uncharted territory of this all. He’s an experienced Dom. He knows how to tie a shibari knot like no one’s business. He can get a sub to drop at the command of his voice. He’s never had one go _unresponsive_ because their mind was pushed too hard by a person who didn’t love them. This hadn’t been consensual and Bucky would love to wring Jen’s neck for it.

Tears blurring Bucky’s vision, he tugs at Steve’s pants, pulling them to the thigh and then down from the ankle. Steve’s wearing blue briefs but Bucky can see the hard line of his caged erection. Three days with an erection. That’s a hard limit for a lot of people and yet Steve clung to it like it was a lifeline. Bucky slips his fingers beneath the waistband, purposefully massaging his fingers into the skin to try to get a rise out of Steve.

All Steve does close his eyes a bit. Then he blinks.

Bucky reaches up, cupping Steve’s face. “Kitten. Kitten do you hear me? Steve? Steve listen to me!” He wants to shake him. He’s heard of people breaking from reality like this. Causes vary but it’s not like it’s a far reach for Steve’s case. He’d been forced to endure a session with an unrelenting prosecutor and no therapist was around to tell her to back off the questions that began to scrape into Steve’s unconscious memories. Bucky saw it– the moment Steve just gave up. It was when he’d closed his eyes and relinquished that tiny little _yes_. Steve kept talking, but he wasn’t _there_ anymore.

And Bucky let it happen.

“Steve.” Bucky’s on the verge of tears. His voice is a desperate cry that he’s even surprised. It burns with each syllable but he can’t stop. “Come back to me. Don’t make me hurt you. Please, please don’t make me hurt you.” He drops his head on the man’s shoulder, tears clumping his lashes. “I can’t do this.”

“Yes you can,” a woman’s voice says.

Bucky turns to see Natasha. She’s got a CVS bag in one hand and Bucky’s spare key in the other. “Coulson gave me it. I told him it was an emergency.”

“I didn’t– This wasn’t a scene.”

“It was the deposition.” Natasha kneels before Steve, checking his pulse. “I know.”

“How?”

Natasha rolls her eyes, as if the question is the silliest thing on the planet. “I had lunch with Matt yesterday.” She picks up one of Steve’s feet and lets it drop with a thud.

“Hey!”

She ignores him. “Damn. He’s gone. Has he seen a therapist?”

Bucky grits his teeth. He was supposed to get a psych evaluation for Steve to go along with the evidence list and expert testimonies. “I haven’t gotten around to it yet. I was chasing– I was chasing a lead.”

“What about Bruce? You could squeeze him in pretty easily.” She stands up, leaning over the bath to turn it on. “So your sub, huh?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. It takes him a moment to realize this was supposed to be a secret. In Bucky’s panic, he’d texted the one person he knew that had more knowledge on BDSM technique than he did. His mentor. He looked away, shame wrapping around him like a heavy mist. He felt groggy and slimy. “I– I’ve fucked up.”

“Sleeping with a client.” She clicks her tongue. “Has he been in the playroom yet?”

“Nat!”

She laughs, rocking back on the lip of the large tub. “Relax. You honestly think I care who you sleep with? It’s your life, James.”

Bucky exhales. Out of anyone Bucky could let this slip to, Natasha is probably the most reliable of them all. Still, he doesn’t like the idea of _anyone_ knowing. One wrong joke in front of the wrong eyes and this all could be lost. Bucky wouldn’t just be facing disbarment. It’d create a media shitstorm. He could see the headlines now: _Discredited Attorney Has a Sex Dungeon He Uses With Clients_. Long title, but Bucky’s not exactly focusing on clever headlines for his demise right now. Steve’s still unresponsive.

“Do you think he broke cause he’s a sub?” Bucky asks as he watches the water rise. He’s holding Steve’s hand, casually stroking the blue veins with his free fingers.

“I’ve seen a lot of people break like this, James.” She shrugs. “But maybe. How hard did the prosecution push?”

Bucky grits his teeth to hold back bile. “Hard.”

Natasha winces. She looks down and her brows pinch together. “Wait.” She cranes her neck, staring at Steve’s cock. “He’s in a cage!”

Bucky feels heat rise in his cheeks.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” She smacks him on the arm, but there’s a little smirk at the corner of her red-painted lips. “You had him at a deposition with that on?”

“Three days was the deal.” Bucky shrugs innocently. He’s starting to calm down. Natasha doesn’t seem too worried which makes Bucky feel much better. This is reversible and that’s the only thing that matters. Bucky just wants Steve back.

“Get his underwear off and let’s get him in there. We’ve gotta dunk him.”

Bucky swallows. “Why? Isn’t that– It’s gonna hurt him.”

“Well– yeah. That’s kinda the point. It’ll force consciousness.”

Bucky cups Steve’s face again, bringing their foreheads together. Steve’s just staring blankly at some nondescript point in the room. “I’m right here. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

Together, they hoist Steve up. Bucky slips the briefs down. Steve’s cock is purpling from the strain it’s withstood. If Natasha notices she doesn’t say so. They get his ass to the lip of the large tub. Bucky’s trembling again. He knows it’s just a bathtub and they’ll be there to pull him right back up, but the thought of Steve drowning does creep up Bucky’s spine like a cold clawed hand.

“Let go, James.”

Bucky doesn’t.

“James.” Natasha’s voice is clipped, but not unkind. “He’ll be okay. If he doesn’t come up on his own, we’re right here to get him.”

Bucky swallows, nodding. He takes in a shaky breath and then he lets go.

Steve falls back into the water. His limbs are still as the dead for a second. Bucky’s ready to leap into the bath and pull him out when Steve starts flailing. His feet go into the bath and then he’s surging up on his own with a loud splash of water.

Bucky starts to cry. Relief pours out of him, lifting every grimy cell and cleaning him until he’s left purified.

Steve gasps, clambering for the edge of the tub. He’s got his feet beneath him now. He’s splashing water all over but Bucky doesn’t care. He’s okay. He’s back and he knows he’s in the tub. _He’s there again_.

Bucky’s kneeling on the tile, pulling Steve into a hug. His boy– yes, _his boy,_ is shivering from the chilled water, but he’s solid and he’s there. “Jesus, Steve!” Bucky pushes his face into Steve’s neck. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Steve raises his hands, clutching against Bucky’s shoulder blades. He’s wet and Bucky can feel the cold water through his blaze. Steve’s okay. Bucky didn’t break him. Bucky didn’t fail him. Jen pushed too hard and Steve suffered for that, but he’s okay now.

“Get him out.” Natasha hands Bucky a towel.

“C’mon, baby.” Bucky helps Steve stand. They’re both shaking and Bucky’s not sure Steve won’t just fall right back into the water. They go one leg each to get Steve out and then Bucky’s wrapping him in a towel and pressing kisses everywhere he can. Steve’s soft laugh is enough to encourage him and he steals kisses on the mouth. Worlds are created from Steve’s kisses. Bucky feels revived, like Steve’s pouring life into him. They break away from each other, but Bucky doesn’t stop rubbing up and down Steve’s biceps. “I thought– Shit, Steve. What happened?”

Steve smiles that million-dollar dimwitted smile. Bucky wants to punch him and kiss him all at the same time. “I don’t know. I just know I felt– caged.”

They both look down at his cock and laugh.

Natasha just scoffs, but Bucky knows it’s in jest. “C’mon dorks. You should get him out of that cage.” She walks out of the bathroom and closes the door.

Bucky bites his lip, feeling silly for even wanting Steve to have the chastity cage on in the first place. He doesn’t know how well it helped or not, but now all it’s doing is reminding him that Steve doesn’t feel _content_ right now. There’s a panging in his cock, a sound that’s holding him so thick and straight. Bucky does want that thing off him.

“You– you okay?” Bucky asks. His brows pull together when he looks up at Steve.

“I am now.”

“Lemme get that off.” Bucky gets on his knees and Steve visibly jerks away. He looks up, flabbergasted.

“It’s just funny,” Steve says, smirking. “You’re on your knees in front of me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Okay wiseguy. Now gimme that dick.”

Steve steps forward, still grinning like the dope he is. Bucky _definitely_ wants to smack him. He starts with the sound, unhinging it from one of the rings.

“This may sting, baby.”

Steve runs his fingers through Bucky’s hair. Bucky actually feels a rush of quiet pleasure go through him. Even _looking_ submissive used to make him uncomfortable. He’s not all that bothered being on his knees with Steve’s hand in his hair. He almost– _almost_ – wants Steve to tug on it.

Bucky pulls the sound slowly. He looks up, watching the way Steve sucks in his lips and lets out the tiniest sound of distress. Once it’s out, Bucky stares at that abused urethra. It’s swollen open a bit and probably will stay that way for a few days. Bucky licks his lips, curiosity tickling at his thoughts.

“Hey Steve?”

“Mm?” Steve’s still got his hand in Bucky’s hair.

“Can I kiss it?”

Steve tenses again, his eyes widening. He looks away, his eyes darting around before looking back. He nods.

Bucky brushes his nose against Steve’s cock. It’s still in the cage and Bucky hits the icy cool metal. The warmth of Steve’s flesh is there too and it radiates like a heater. He presses his lips to the tip. His hands wrap around Steve’s hips and he digs his nails in just a bit. His mind is screaming at him that this isn’t what Steve _or_ him want. They’re a puzzle that fits a certain way and this is going against that. He also doesn’t care. His baby went through hell today and if getting a little submissive to give Steve comfort is what it takes, then Bucky’s going to do it.

Bucky flicks his tongue out, tracing it along Steve’s slit. He can barely dip his tongue inside. It tastes sour and metallic.

“B-Bucky,” Steve shudders out. “Don’t get me– um– Sir, please don’t get me worked up.”

Bucky smiles up at Steve, nodding. “Sure.” He looks back at the cage, taking each piece off slowly and unhooking the leather at the base of the rings. Once Steve’s cock is free, it drops against his thigh, still swollen and half hard.

“You still want me to– to uh– Do you still wanna have sex tonight?” Bucky stands up, listening to his knees pop. He feels uncomfortable using _fuck_ right now.

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “Yeah? I mean– n-nothing intense? I just– I just need a calm night.” He starts to wring his hands.

Bucky steps forward, grabbing Steve’s fingers and lacing them with his. “I know what to do, Kitten. I’ll take good care of you.” He presses a soft kiss to Steve’s lips. “Okay?”

Steve smiles, relief dipping his shoulders. “Okay.”

* * *

Natasha’s already cooking them something that smells illegally delicious when they walk out of the bedroom. Steve’s dressed in oversized (yes even for him) sweatpants and one of Bucky’s hoodies. It’s a little snug around his shoulders and chest but other than that, it’s pretty good. Bucky may be muscular but he’s not as broad as Steve.

“I’m making fried ham and mashed potatoes,” Natasha announces matter-of-fact. “Call it a private joke since I find it hilarious you used to be Jewish.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as she smirks at him. “I never kept Kosher anyway.” He goes over to the fridge and pulls out two waters. “Want one?”

“No, but he needs three.”

Bucky just piles more waters into his arms. He walks back over to the living room and drops the bottles on the sofa. Steve just looks up at him with that soft smile of his.

“She says you need ‘em all.”

“She’s your mentor right? Natasha?” Steve cracks open one of the waters and downs it. Bucky likes watching Steve’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows.

“Yeah,” Bucky answers after Steve wipes his mouth and goes for another bottle. “How’d you know?”

“She’s bossing you around and you’re listening.”

Bucky nods, scooting back into the cushions. “She’s not my Dom.”

“I know.” Steve props his feet on Bucky’s lap. He squirms a little, dipping his ass into the cushions. Bucky just watches. There’s so much relief in Bucky that Steve’s okay now. It’s humming right under the skin and is loud like a swarm of honeybees. He’s not sure how Steve can’t hear it.

“Whatcha doing?” Bucky finally asks.

“I’m enjoying the freedom and comfort of a soft dick.” He drops his head back against the armrest.

“Yeah.” Bucky runs his hands up Steve’s leg as far as he can. “It won’t be soft for long, Kitten.”

Steve rolls on the sofa, digging his heels into Bucky’s thigh. “God, please, Sir.”

“Hey Nat!” Bucky yells. He’s staring right at Steve, a hunger crawling into him for his boy. They deserve a good night after such a rough day. “How long ya gonna be here?”

“Oh hold your damn horses! I’ll just finish cooking and you two can fuck all night!”

“I like her.” Steve laughs, a pretty blush creeping up his face. Bucky watches the way his eyes brighten as the red flirts with the skin.

“I was so scared,” Bucky whispers. He’s stroking up Steve’s thigh, just light, inconsequential touches, or _should_ be inconsequential. Steve’s already getting hard. “When you collapsed I didn’t–”

“I didn’t mean to do that to you.” Steve grabs Bucky’s hand. “I just– I don’t know what happened.”

“We need you to do a psych eval anyway. I’ve got a friend, Dr. Bruce Banner. He could do it for us.”

Steve rolls his lips. He’s looking off somewhere in the room, considering. He tosses his head from side to side lightly and says, “Is he trustworthy?”

“Hm?”

“If I’m gonna talk to your friend, what if I accidently let it slip what we do? Therapists– I can get pretty talkative to therapists.”

Bucky takes Steve’s hand. “Then I really stress you see him and no one else.”

“Dinner!” Natasha walks into the room. She leans on the wall, looking over Steve and Bucky. “You’re a brutal killer and a sub.”

“Nat!” Bucky all but screams.

She holds her hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry! It’s just– It’s kind of– I mean he’s huge and what he did–”

“I will _rip_ you apart!”

Steve starts laughing. It echoes into the room like a foreign sound on Bucky’s ears. He turns to Steve, watching the man’s chest shake, his face crinkles up and that _smile_. Bucky just gapes at Steve. After the stresses of the day, Steve completely detaching from reality and having to be shoved underwater? His laughter is almost taken for madness.

“N-no!” Steve grabs his stomach. “No it’s funny!”

Bucky doesn’t find it funny.

“I’m a sub.” Steve wipes a tear from his eye. “I’m a sub and the _world_ would be so fuckin’ freaked outta their minds! This big dude likes it up the ass? He likes kneeling at some other dude’s feet and bein’ called ‘Kitten’?”

Natasha makes an amused sound in her throat.

“I get it.” Steve takes in a deep breath. “It’s funny.”

“You’re both crazy,” Bucky says, looking between Natasha and Steve. “Nat, thanks for coming over but I think I’m gonna beat this kid senseless now.”

Steve just bursts out laughing again. Bucky’s threats are just in jest, but he’d love to smack one of those tits right now. It’s _not_ funny!

“Enjoy,” Natasha lilts as she sways around. “Oh and Bucky?”

Bucky cranes his neck.

“Your secret’s safe. I swear.”

He nods and turns back to Steve when she opens the door to leave. “Okay you little rascal.” He crawls atop Steve, sliding between those beautiful thighs. “You’ve lost your mind.”

Steve’s still lightly chuckling. His eyes are misty from tears and those damn cheeks are dusted red. He’s so pretty it physically hurts Bucky. Steve reaches up, tracing Bucky’s lips. Bucky relaxes, allowing his weight to push Steve into the couch. Steve’s too focused on Bucky to really care– or perhaps he’s so solid that he doesn’t even notice.

“You want me in you tonight?”

“All night,” Steve says, looking hopeful.

Bucky raises a brow, gently nipping at Steve’s finger. He sucks it into his mouth before chewing on it.

“Ow.”

Bucky just hums. He drops Steve’s finger and kisses his baby. They’re unhurried kisses, precise and full of more emotion than Bucky wants to admit. He had never been so terrified than earlier when Steve went unresponsive. He’s always prided himself on staying calm, handling a situation and dealing with it systematically. He’d almost shut down himself. If Natasha hadn’t stopped by, he probably would’ve and they’d both need to be shoved into a bathtub.

Steve rocks up into Bucky, his kisses getting more eager. He’s already hard and Bucky can’t help but grind down too. He’s been so patient for this– both of them have. Bucky’s gone mad holding back from touching himself or letting Steve touch him. But he doesn’t want tonight rushed. Steve’s had enough psychological stimulation for one day.

Bucky pulls back, scooting into his corner of the sofa. He drops his legs open and motions for Steve to come over. Steve crawls into Bucky’s arms, nuzzling his nose along the sternum. “You want me, Kitten?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you want, baby?”

Steve licks his lips, sitting back. “Your cock.”

Bucky smiles. Of course. He’s been begging for that since they started this whole thing. “How do you want it?”

Steve blinks, clearly taken by surprise.

“Remember my rules. We talk it all out first.”

Steve sighs out his nose, idly tracing a finger around one of Bucky’s pecs. “I want it in my mouth and in my ass.”

“That it?”

Steve blinks, his brow crinkling. Bucky _should_ be the one suggesting, except he’s terrified of overstimulating Steve, and he’d rather go more vanilla tonight.

“What do you think about cockwarming?” Bucky traces his finger over Steve’s silken lips. “Wanna see your pretty lips around me for hours. Can you do that?”

Steve whines. He sucks Bucky’s finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. He pops off, nodding. His eyes are blackening by the second and he can’t stop rocking his hips down.

Bucky pets Steve’s face before tangling his fingers in those blond short strands. He tugs a bit, getting a little yelp from Steve. He pulls Steve in and silences him with a rough kiss. “I’ve got work to do. But you can hold me like that, and then we can fuck, okay?”

“Yes Sir, please.”

Bucky kisses lighter this time, stroking his fingers along Steve’s strong jaw. He pulls back, nuzzling their noses together. “Stay here, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Steve whines, but he doesn’t move. He stretches on the couch, letting Bucky get a full view of that erect dick behind straining sweatpants. He’s so damn hung it’s almost a shame Bucky _really_ has a top preference. It’s not like he won’t switch, but receiving has never really been his style. Call him an avid giver.

He grabs his laptop, his legal pad, and Steve’s casefile before plopping back on the couch. He puts the laptop up on the armrest and gets himself situated.

Steve just silently and patiently (bless him) waits until Bucky’s ready.

Bucky reaches out to his baby, gesturing with a finger for him.

Steve slinks over like the kitten he is. Bucky wants to get him a collar with a bell on it just to play that up more. He wonders if Steve would be into that– a collar. His thoughts are interrupted when Steve nuzzles his face into Bucky’s lap. He mouths over Bucky’s cock and his warm breath penetrates through the threads of his sweatpants.

Bucky sits back, spreading his legs a little more. Steve purrs against him, reaching up to the waistband. He pauses, looking up at Bucky.

“You want me out?”

Steve nods.

“Kiss me first, Kitten.”

Steve leans up for a heavy kiss. He sloshes his tongue into Bucky’s and their saliva slips along their lips. Bucky pulls back, rocking his hips up. The way Steve’s looking at him, it’s everything Bucky’s ever wanted in a sub. Clint’s a great sub, but it’s just physical. Steve actually _wants_ Bucky– and not just because he’s a Dom, but because he’s a person Steve trusts. They want more from each other and that’s what really gets beneath Bucky’s skin and heats him up.

Steve untucks Bucky from his sweats. He bites his lip, looking up at Bucky with shy eyes.

“You can have it, baby.” Bucky pets his fingers through Steve’s hair.

Steve leans down and wraps his lips around Bucky. His mouth is hot and relaxed. Bucky can feel Steve’s tongue excitedly dance under his shaft. God, he wants to thrust up into Steve and facefuck him. Steve glides his lips up to the tip to press a dainty kiss there.

Bucky can’t help but suck in a deep breath. “Don’t suck me off. Just hold it, okay?”

“Bucky?”

Bucky blinks, waiting.

“I–” Steve swallows. He looks like he’s chewing up words as they come to him and is waiting to find the right ones. “I really like you.”

Bucky almost laughs, except he realizes how difficult that was for Steve. It makes him wonder what Steve’s life was like with past lovers. Shamefully, Bucky doesn’t even know Steve’s life. He’ll do better. He knows Steve. He knows his personality, his behaviors and it’s safe to say Bucky even knows his desires. But he doesn’t know what grade school Steve went to or his favorite holiday. He doesn’t know if Steve had a favorite toy he could hardly put down. He wants those details of a Steve he never got to meet.

“I like you too,” Bucky says.

“And you’ve got the best fuckin’ cock I’ve ever seen.”

Bucky snorts. “You’re a punk.” He pushes Steve’s head down, and Steve latches on like a babe to a teat. He relaxes into Bucky, curling up and sucking softly.

Bucky grits his teeth, trying to hold back the moans. He should’ve jerked off before he let Steve do this, but he wouldn’t dare take this away from Steve now. So he turns to his work, flipping open the casefile and looking at his notes from the depo. He smiles each time he hears Steve make the most adorable hums around his cock. Steve’s got his head nestled on one of Bucky’s thighs. His arms are wrapped around Bucky with a strength that would give most pause– but not Bucky. He likes feeling strapped close to Steve.

He hisses when Steve suckles on his tip, idly and too blissfully for Bucky to stop him. Bucky just threads his fingers through Steve’s hair and pushes him back down along his length. Jesus, he’s going to come on accident and it’ll be the most embarrassing moment of his life. Proud Dom comes too easily… That’s a headline for when their secret gets out. Bucky almost laughs except it’s borderline pathetic.

He clicks around on his computer, getting ready to type up his notes when he remembers Peter Parker and the most unusual encounter he’s ever experienced. The guy was entirely hostile and if Bucky didn’t know better (which means he knows he’s absolutely right in his assumption) he’d say the kid was terrified of something– or someone.

Bucky looks up what he can about Peter. Great student, science kind, total nerd and according to Facebook he’s single. He looks down at Steve, stroking his fingers through his baby’s hair again. This is nice. Steve’s warm around his cock and melted into the couch. His eyes are closed and Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep like that. Every now and then he feels a little tug around his cock or a flick of a tongue but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

He sits back, focusing more on Steve than on his notes. Steve’s lips are so pretty stretched around a cock. His skin is still dusted rose. He’s a deep sunset at the end of the world. Bucky could find himself falling–

Bucky’s eyes snap open. That’s too soon. That’s too soon. That’s _much, much_ too soon. He goes back to his notes, focusing extra hard on them and his task. Research Peter and get him to be a witness. He’s pretty sure if he pushes into the kid’s house that he’ll be able to get the guy talking. He could do that tomorrow.

Steve hums again around Bucky. The vibrations sing deep into Bucky’s pelvis. He doesn’t mean to, but he rocks up into Steve. Steve yelps but opens his mouth to avoid biting on Bucky.

“Shh,” Bucky coos. “Sorry baby. You just feel so good wrapped around me like that.”

Steve’s eyes shouldn’t look so innocent when he’s got a cock in his mouth.

Bucky leans back into the cushions. He’s warm, feels good and he’s making Steve happy. Work can wait.

* * *

Bucky’s making coffee when he hears the shower turn on. Steve really did fall asleep with Bucky’s cock in his mouth and Bucky didn’t have the heart to take him off it. They’d slept the entire night on that sofa. Bucky’s ass is _killing_ him and his bones keep popping and creaking at him each time he moves. He really needs a good workout– or a good fuck. Speaking of which…

He leaves the coffee to percolate and goes through the bedroom to the bathroom. The shower is large with a frosted glass door. Bucky can see Steve through it. “Hey baby?”

“Yeah?”

“How’s your jaw?”

Steve laughs. “I’ve still got dickbreath and I’ve brushed my teeth three times.”

It’s Bucky’s turn to laugh. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.” He walks over to the counter and pulls out his shaving kit.

“I love it. You wanna join me?”

Bucky lathers up with shaving cream before turning on his razor. He listens to it hum, letting Steve wait for a response just a little longer. Bucky’s nothing if not a tease.

Once he’s finished, he splashes water on his face and says, “I’d love to.” He strips out of his sleep clothes and gets into the shower.

Steve’s all smiles when he wraps his arms around him, pulling Bucky close and letting their cocks rub together. He purrs, dropping his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “I like this.”

“Yeah?” Bucky kisses the back of Steve’s neck. Water’s getting in his eyes but it feels damn good and he doesn’t want to pull Steve from the shower spray.

“I want you in me.” Steve rocks his hips. The friction between their cocks makes Bucky shudder.

“Not in the shower, Kitten. Lube just dissolves in here.”

Steve sighs but he doesn’t push the issue. He wiggles around in Bucky’s arms and grabs the shampoo. “Can you?”

Bucky smirks. “Absolutely.” He works the shampoo into Steve’s hair, making sure to massage at the base of the skull and really work his thumbs into the scalp. Steve’s got goosebumps all over. He’s leaning back into Bucky and swaying lightly on his feet. “This feel good?”

“Mhm.”

“So,” Bucky says as he brings Steve’s head back under the stream to rinse. “I was thinkin’ you call Sam today? I’ve gotta go chase a lead.”

“Who?”

“Parker.”

Steve reaches behind himself to grab at Bucky’s hips, he pulls Bucky’s body forward. Bucky finds his cock slipping up and down between Steve’s ass. “You sure you don’t wanna just fuck me all day?”

Bucky reaches around Steve and twists his nipples, earning a sharp yelp. “That’s for misbehaving you brat.”

Steve whines, but he’s too busy massaging at his swelling nipples to retaliate. Not that he would anyway, Bucky’s _his_ Dom.   

“So, you call Sam and I go be your attorney?”

Steve nods. He drops his head against Bucky’s shoulder. “And then we can fuck all night?”

Bucky laughs, kissing Steve’s ear. “Baby, I’ll let you fall asleep again around my dick.”

Steve squeals in delight before kissing enthusiastically at Bucky’s jaw. Bucky guides him to his lips and they wrap around each other. Slow tender kisses, one after the next as water streams into their mouths.

Bucky sighs against Steve. “Mm, dickbreath.”

“Oh my God! I thought I was just joking!” Steve’s face is scandalized.

“I am! Holy shit baby I am joking!”

Steve punches him lightly. Bucky lets it slide because he _did_ deserve it.

* * *

Bucky looks up at Peter’s townhouse, squinting. It’s crammed between two other houses just as equally charming yet slightly run-down. They’re knee-deep in Queens, which is fine, Bucky just hates all the different subway lines he has to take out of Manhattan. He marches up to the door, briefcase tightly clenched in one hand. He knocks. It’s not eager or obtrusive, just three little quick knocks. He waits a few seconds before knocking again. And again. And again.

He’s been standing there for ten minutes before someone on the other side says, “Oh my God! Do you ever leave?”

Bucky smirks. “Nope!”

The door opens and Bucky looks at a skinny guy with a mop of brown hair. He looks younger than his age but the irritation in his eyes gives him away. College students tend to have that look of defiance etched into their pupils.

“Not you again.”

“Yes me again. Can I come in?”

“No.”

Bucky leans on the threshold. “Okay Peter, last time we talked you weren’t an ass. You were scared.”

“Last time we talked you freaked me the fuck out!” Peter scratches his head, messing up his hair. “I’m prepared this time.”

Bucky quirks a brow.

Peter looks at the street, his big brown eyes following right to left. He steps back into the house and motions with his head for Bucky to follow. Bucky does before the kid changes his mind.

“My aunt’s not here right now.”

“You’re eighteen though right?” Legal purposes of course. Bucky doesn’t want to get into any issues with minors.

“Almost nineteen actually.” Peter leads them into the kitchen. It’s small, dated with floral wallpaper and a yellowing fridge. “Do you want coffee?”

“Why don’t you come forward about what you saw?”

Peter freezes. He kicks the lower cabinet lightly while his back’s to Bucky. After his pause, he moves over to the mugs and slowly starts over to the coffee maker. He’s looking for every outlet here and Bucky’s trying hard not to give him one.

“So that coffee,” Peter tries again. He sticks two mugs next to the brewer and offers the most uncomfortable smile Bucky’s ever seen. “It’s dark roast. Tastes like dirt but it’ll put hair on your chest– or something. I still don’t actually _have_ hair on my chest but my Aunt May says–”

“Peter.”

Peter licks his lips, leaning back against the counter. He looks like a child who lost their dog only to find the next door neighbor had tortured it to death. Bucky sympathizes with him. He knows Peter knows something. Peter seems like the type of kid who wants to help out, but there’s something holding him back. Bucky doesn’t want to jump to conclusions, but he’s sure Peter would be helping unless it meant setting something more sinister in action. Bucky takes a deep breath, mulling over that consequence. Just what shit did he step into with this case (aside from the obvious ethical issues).

“Look, it’s–” Peter sighs, flicking one of the empty mugs a few times. A little _ting_ rings into the air. “If they found out– they could– I just–”

“Talk to me man. I could help you.”

“You could get my aunt killed!” Peter wails. He grips the counter, breathing heavily. His lithe shoulders are working up and down and Bucky realizes he didn’t just step in shit. He stepped into a land mind full of bombs, shit and blood.

“Who’s doing this, Peter?” Bucky’s heart is beating steady in his chest. He’s not entirely sure how long that’s going to last, but he’s trying to keep as calm as possible. Steve’s so far over his head and Bucky’s just barely scratched the surface. But it all makes sense. Gwen on her little media campaign, best friend Peter Parker surprisingly missing from the interviews and how Bucky can’t seem to find a single damn thing _good_ published about Steve. They’re all bought. Everyone’s in on it and Steve’s got no idea.

Peter slumps into a chair across from Bucky. He runs his fingers through his hair and tugs at it. “I’ll get her killed if I talk.”

Bucky leans forward. “I can help you.”

“No.” He sounds like a man who has too much experience with whatever’s at play. It makes Bucky genuinely fear for Steve’s life. “They already know you’re here.”

Bucky stands up. Panic surges through him and his fight or flight instincts battle like a civil war needs to ravage inside him. He stares at Peter, wide-eyed and angry. “How?”

Peter drops his head on the table. “I told them.”

Bucky groans, looking around for an exit. “I could _save_ you, Peter!”

“That’s what you don’t understand!” Peter yells, slamming his fist on the table. “You can’t. You can’t save me and you can’t save _him_! Just give up, man!”

Bucky blinks, a strange chilling sensation crawls up his body. It’s cold, soothing and like crisp autumn waters. “Steve?”

Peter nods, swallowing. “You can’t save him. Someone has to pay for what happened.”

“What _happened_ , Peter?”

Peter covers his eyes, a strangled sound escaping his throat. “You need to go before they get here.”

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers under his breath. He wants to run. He wants to punch this kid. He gets it. Peter’s protecting his only family and Bucky respects that. He’d do anything for his family too. Which… His eyes go round. “Peter?”

Peter looks up. His eyes are shining with tears.

“Who isn’t safe?”

Peter grabs a piece of paper slowly. “You should go. They’ll be here soon.” He shakes his head before holding up a hand to make Bucky wait. Then he silently tip toes over to the door and opens it. He’s got a pen in his back pocket and he starts scribbling something out.

Bucky looks around the room. It’s bugged. Peter didn’t tell anyone anything. He didn’t have to. It wasn’t safe since the moment Bucky stepped inside. That’s why Peter is so defensive. That’s why Peter didn’t want to open the door. Bucky walks over to the backdoor. He stops his feet for dramatic effect. “Fine. I won’t bother you again.” Peter hands him the slip of paper.

_Oscorp can’t be trusted. You and yours. Steve and his. Meet me tomorrow at the Nat. His. Museum. Don’t tell anyone._

“I said get out!” Peter yells. He pushes Bucky out the door and slams it. Bucky doesn’t fault him for it. They had to play the part.

Bucky reads over the little message again. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Steve is so fucked. Bucky’s so fucked.

You and yours… Steve and his. No one is safe. Jesus Christ, Bucky thinks, his heart on the verge of an explosion. No one is safe.

* * *

Bucky’s panting by the time he gets back home. He’s shoving himself into the apartment and slams the door behind him. He shucks his loafers off and runs into the living room.

Steve’s sporting a flabbergasted look his way. A man with dark skin and the prettiest cheekbones Bucky’s ever seen is mirroring Steve’s expression– albeit more controlled.

“It,” Bucky pants, “it was a weird day.”

“Why?” Steve stands up. He’s wringing his hands and Bucky can see from across the room that they’re chapped and bleeding. He hates it. Steve’s developing a mental compulsion faster than Bucky can work with him. He’s failing Steve. He’s failing so badly and he never stopped to realize he’d failed him from the moment he took the case. It was _designed_ to fail. Someone else is pulling the strings. Bucky’s just the dumb fuck who thought Steve looked cute angry. He’d wrecked this case up for Oscorp or whatever and now they’re fighting back in earnest. Threatening kids, possibly endangering Bucky and Steve? Skewing up jury selection? Bucky’s eyes widen. He wonders if _Jen_ is even in on it. She’s always had moments where her cruelty subsided into what looked like sympathy. Could that…? Is Bucky reading too much into it?

“Bucky!”

Bucky blinks, startled when he sees Steve’s standing right in front of him.

“What happened?”

“I-it’s nothing. Just attorney shit.”

“Wow,” the guy with the pretty cheekbones says, “he’s as shitty of a liar as you.”

Bucky wants to glare but he’s so scared he can’t find it in him.

“Sam already knows,” Steve says, taking Bucky’s hand. “I couldn’t– I’m sorry, Bucky.”

Bucky suffers through a moment of confusion before it finally registers. Steve’s told _Sam_ about them. He’s even bringing Bucky’s hand up to his cheek and leaning into it. Bucky steps back, yanking his hand back. “We can’t do this.” Bucky all but runs into the study.

He hears Steve and Sam following behind; mismatched feet on a hardwood floor. He’s fallen into his seat at his desk. He doesn’t know what to do when a corporation larger than life wants a man committed. But is that _all_ they want? Steve to rot in jail for the rest of his life? Why did it have to be Steve? Did Steve even _do_ any of this?

“Steve,” Bucky whispers. “Do you remember _anything_ about the attack?” He hears Steve whine.

“C’mon, man.” Sam’s next to Steve, rubbing his back in support. Bucky already likes Sam. He exudes the kind of personality that doesn’t take shit from anyone but he’ll fight to the death for his friends. It’s written all over his body language. At least Bucky feels he can trust Sam. He’s starting to run out of options here.

“I already told you,” Steve says. “I blacked out.”

“Do you remember bashing someone’s skull in?” Bucky hates himself.

“I already _told you_!” Steve’s voice is wavering. He’s on the verge of a breakdown and Bucky’s _pushing_ him to it.

“Steve,” Bucky says again. He can’t look at his boy. He can’t look at the person he promised to protect and cherish. He feels sick and swollen with putrid tar. He can feel venom slipping from his pores. “Did you murder those men?” He hears weight hit the wooden floor, and then he closes his eyes.

“What the fuck, man!” Sam says before kneeling beside Steve. He wraps his arms around Steve’s crying form. “Jesus, Barnes, and after everything he’s said about you, I actually thought you were nice!”

Bucky doesn’t retaliate. He deserves that. He deserves so much more than someone’s scornful remark.

“Eyewitnesses,” Steve grits out. “They saw it. I don’t have to remember because they fuckin’ saw it!”

“Hey, hey calm down man.” Sam pulls Steve into a tighter hug. “S’okay. Shhh.” He’s rocking Steve back and forth. Bucky can see the way Steve’s trembling out of the corner of his eye.

Bucky’s sure there’s a level of hell reserved for him. His Jewish ancestors are probably all arguing up in heaven about what to _do_ about their schmuck of a descendent. He’s never put much faith in God, but if there’s one out there, he needs help. He needs all the damn help he can get right now.

“But _you_ don’t actually remember doing it? Your story you told me in jail. Why’d you tell me it?”

Steve’s sobbing loudly. He’s got his face in Sam’s chest and the way Sam’s looking at Bucky with a stern brow and eyes glaring disapproval. It almost hurts to see but Bucky _has_ to keep pushing.

“Steve, do you remember hurting those men? _I need to know_!”

“NO!” Steve shouts. He wails, rolling his head before slamming back into Sam. “No! No I don’t remember anything!”

“Then why did you tell me-”

“Because they all said I did it! I was to–” He sobs loudly, clinging to Sam like it may be the last time he ever does. The world gets clearer and Bucky realizes everything they’ve been told has been a calculated plan to put a good man in the line of fire. Steve’s been the sacrificial lamb since the beginning. “I was _told_ I did it. The police officer. I don’t– I don’t remember his name. But he said I did it. He told me over n’ over and I believed him. I mean I had blood all over me. I had bruises. I did it, right?”

Sam looks at Bucky for answers he doesn’t have. He’s cradling Steve’s head, carefully stroking his fingers through blond strands. He’s so protective that Bucky’s almost jealous.

“It’s too soon to tell–” Bucky feels his heart stop beating. “But I think you’ve been framed.”

There’s a long silence. It’s void of sniffing, sobbing or wailing. It’s the kind of silence that suffocates a person and Bucky’s left gasping in its wake.

“People saw it.” Steve’s voice is dead. It’s lost all its color and will. Bucky never wants to hear that tone again.

“Did they? Sam didn’t.”

Sam nods. “He’s not wrong. I didn’t see shit. None of the people I spoke to did.”

“But there’re witnesses.” Steve sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he’s trying to convince them. Bucky’s not surprised. Any man would try to make sense of this. Hell, they even had Bucky fooled. _Everyone_ has been fooled.

“If someone with enough money paid a few people to corroborate a story, don’t you think that they could easily skate by as witnesses?” Bucky asks.

“Jesus.” Sam squeezes Steve in his arms. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

Bucky flicks his brows up. He’ll take any God willing to help at this point. Never _ever_ did he think he’d represent the truly innocent man. Everyone’s heard stories about that guy. The one that’s too wholesome, gentle and everyone likes him. He’s the martyr because he admits he did something wrong, even when all the evidence doesn’t _actually_ point that way. There’s something fishy but the truly innocent believe he’s done something wrong, so he twists up his own story and takes the blame. He gets a fancy needle in his vein and years later they find the real killer. It’s a story that haunts all defense attorneys. Bucky’s glad the death penalty isn’t allowed anymore but he’s not taking any chances. People still die in prison, especially people who big money want _dead_.

“I’m outta my league,” Bucky says. He leans back in his chair. Steve looks like he’s calming down. Sam’s wearing an expression where he’s not sure if he wants to give up or go on a murder rampage himself. “Everything we thought that happened, it’s all made up.”

“We need to find that police officer.” Sam strokes through Steve’s hair one more time before slowly letting go. He stands up, offering a hand down to Steve. “I’ll recognize him. I remember seeing a cop get into the back with Steve.” He cringes. “I thought it looked weird, but I didn’t– They were sayin’ Steve did it and I just– I saw the bodies and Steve had blood on him so I just believed it.” He looks at Steve, his eyes mournful. “God, I’m so sorry, man.”

Steve shrugs. In the grand scheme of things, Bucky’s not really sure what’s the appropriate response to finding out you’ve been flawlessly set up. They were never supposed to get this far. They’d go to court thinking Steve really did it,  and the jury would be stacked against them whether they knew it or not. Steve would go to jail and every appeal Bucky filed would fall on deaf ears.

It’s a shame, when an attorney can’t even believe in the justice system he’s sworn to uphold. Bucky looks over at his Lady Justice on the desk. Her sword and scales used to inspire him. Now it’s like she’s mocking him. Off with your head, she says. Bucky’s been headless this entire time.

“We can’t do this alone,” Bucky says. “I need– I’m–” Bucky jerks when he feels someone grab his shoulder. He looks up and sees Steve. He’s smiling through his tears. He’s so beautiful. He’s so beautiful it makes Bucky forget how to breathe. _God_ , Bucky’s angry. This beautiful man, this _true innocent_ has been dragged through the media like some common murderer and there’s a huge possibility he didn’t even lay a finger on those boys. Now there’s Flash Thompson to figure out with the battery charges. Bucky’s shit pile just keeps getting hotter and fouler.

“I trust you.” Steve’s words hit Bucky like ice shards. They rip through him, chilling him down to the core and yet the pain revives him. Bucky sucks in a deep breath. It’s a breath full of fear, anxiety and uncertainty, but he sucks it in and then he lets it all out.

He’s got work to do.

“I’m bringing Matt and Foggy in on this,” Bucky says. “And we need to relocate your mom.”

“What?”

“She’s not safe,” Bucky whispers. He pulls out the note from Peter and hands it to Steve. “Neither is my family. It’s gonna get worse when Oscorp realizes we know what’s up.”

“Woah, fuck! What? Oscorp?” Sam holds his hands up to halt the conversation.

Bucky just nods.

“Jesus Christ on a fuckin’ cracker. Okay. Okay, shit. Okay.”

Bucky smiles. That’s about right. He cursed up a storm as quietly as he could on his way home from Queens.

“Okay, so we move our families and then what?” Steve asks.

“We play smart. We act dumb. But baby,” he grabs Steve’s hands, “it’s now even more important that we keep a _lid_ on what we’re doing. Don’t tell your mom. Don’t tell anyone else. Sam and Nat are the only people who can know. If they kick me off this case– and they’re gonna come after me– you won’t find another attorney for miles that’ll touch it.”

Steve scrunches up his face. He looks like he’s going to protest but says, “Okay. Let’s do it.”

* * *

MSNBC _@MSNBC_ – 3h  
BREAKING: Oscorp to unveil memorial to Harry Osborn tomorrow morning. All are welcome. on.msnbc.com/osp2kki

Bucky stares at his computer screen. He’s got Westlaw open and ready to start searching cases. He looks down at the internet symbol on his screen. They could be tracking him. “Damn it.” He closes the laptop abruptly. Wincing when he thinks he may have closed it too hard.

Teeth lightly graze his cock. He hisses, looking down at a sleeping Steve. Of course his movement is going to disturb his baby boy. They’re attached at the most intimate of parts. Steve had been so desperate for this again after Bucky told him everything he knew so far. Bucky doesn’t mind cockwarming. It gets a little oversensitive and his dick will twitch up a storm if it wants to come, but the sensation’s nice. He’s warm inside his baby’s mouth and Steve feels safe with Bucky’s cock in his mouth. Though, if Bucky can ever get himself to finally fuck Steve, he’d much rather cockwarm like that.

It just doesn’t seem _right_ to bring fucking up yet. Steve’s fragile and everything he thought he knew is suddenly up in the air. For Bucky to turn around and go, “so how ‘bout some dick in that ass, ay?” is not only mildly manipulative, it’s not how Bucky shows respect to his subs. He fucking _respects_ Steve. Steve is the literal apple of Bucky’s eye and there’s nothing he wants more than to share a beautiful, vanilla moment with Steve– but it’s not time yet. Bucky’s okay with waiting. It’ll just make it that much more sweet when it finally happens.  

Bucky listens to Steve’s breathing. Warm air caresses against his groin. It’s warm when Steve breathes out, but cold when he inhales. Bucky likes the feeling. He moves the laptop out of the way to watch his baby sleep around his cock. Bucky can see the outline of his dick against Steve’s cheek. It’s so soft inside Steve’s mouth it’s as if Bucky’s sleeping in velvet. Steve’s out cold and Bucky wonders if he should pop Steve off and let his jaw rest.

He sighs, reaching carefully over to the light to switch it off. He’ll let Steve stay like that. He hasn’t seen Steve sleep so well in a long time.

* * *

When Bucky wakes up, Steve’s watching TV in the living room with Sam. Sam’s got an arm casually resting along the back of the couch and Steve’s on the edge of his seat. Bucky looks over at the TV and grimaces. The news is covering the Harry Osborn Memorial unveiling. There’s not going to be a single person in New York who thinks Steve isn’t a vicious animal. Bucky could file for a thousand injunctions and there’d still be prejudice against Steve. He considers filing for a mistrial but he doesn’t know if the judge would even entertain it. No one is safe, after all. Bucky wonders what Oscorp has on their judge– or if he’s just bought. Judge J. Jonah Jameson is a hard judge when it comes to legal matters. He analyzes facts with harsh scrutiny and is very conservative in his rulings. However, he’s never been afraid to call out the justice system when it was wrong and his sentences have always been just. He carries a big stick but he respects the law. Bucky just hopes he’s still respecting the law and not his pocketbook.

“Look at him,” Sam says.

Bucky looks up at the TV. Norman Osborn is at the podium. Bucky clenches his fists. He can feel his fingernails digging into flesh, but he doesn’t care. That man has turned Steve’s life into a living hell and Bucky wants him to pay– and not just with money.

 _“Ladies and gentlemen,”_ Osborn says, _“thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to show your support to my late son. I see his friends, his professors– Senator Kim is that you?”_ The crowd laughs. Bucky just scoffs. _“If this doesn’t prove what a good boy my son was, I don’t know what does. This garden is so full of people with big hearts and dreams. I only wish my son was here to see it. His life was brutally taken from him by a man who thought he was above the law–”_

Bucky moves behind Steve, grabbing his shoulders and squeezing. Steve’s wringing his poor hands so hard that they’re cracking from the knuckle all the way to the middle of his hands. Bucky wants to stop him, but he’s transfixed on the demon wearing a sympathetic human face on the screen.

 _“–but if life has taught me anything, it’s that justice is kind to those who have suffered. I’m suffering from the loss of my son. You’re all suffering from the loss of your friend, your mentor, your brother in science and industry. This memorial isn’t just for the life he should’ve lived– this memorial is for each and every one of you. Harry believed in science. He believed in human advancement and we will continue to advance in his name. Thank you.”_ Osborn steps back. He motions to someone off-screen and then the cameras move to show the memorial.

It’s a hulking statue in the middle of a fountain. Harry’s likeness is staring into the camera with a stern brow and a beaker in hand. There’s a steel ribbon made to look flowing around him with Latin written on it, but Bucky never took Latin so he’s not really sure what it says.

“Science is the process that takes us from confusion to understanding in a manner that’s precise, predictive and reliable,” Steve says. “A transformation for those lucky enough to experience it– that is empowering and emotional. Brian Greene.”

Bucky just blinks.

“I took Latin in high school. Guess I ain’t as dumb as you think I am.” He looks up at Bucky, offering a smile that’s saturated with pain.

“I never thought you were dumb.”

“These guys do,” Sam says. “Schemin’ Norman and his kind.”

Bucky digs his toes into the rug. He checks the clock under the TV. He’s meeting Peter today and then he’ll really get some answers. Right now, he’s fumbling around and he’s not sure what he can or can’t say to Steve. He’s not even sure if leaving Sam and Steve alone is _safe_. Coulson and his team are on high alert to make sure no one comes up here but that wouldn’t stop a resident. What if Osborn pays a resident enough money to come in and shoot Steve?

No, Bucky thinks. No, they need Steve alive for the trial. Steve’s safe as safe can be until Osborn finds out that Bucky’s onto him. It’s Bucky who’s expendable. Bucky bites his lip, moving to the kitchen. He goes about making his coffee, acting like everything’s okay when it’s far from the truth. Sam and Steve are quietly whispering to each other. Steve keeps looking at Bucky with round eyes that are _pleading_ him for a touch or a word that’ll make the pain go away. Bucky wants to be there for him, but he can’t be his attorney, his protector and his Dom all at the same time right now. It’s actually nearing too much. Bucky needs help. He grips an empty mug too tightly. The ceramic hurts as it presses into bone, but he doesn’t stop gripping. He can’t protect Steve when he has to protect himself from people far more powerful than him.

Bucky leans on the wall, watching the coffee drip into the pot. He’s expendable. Steve’s not. If Oscorp finds out– no– _when_ Oscorp finds out, they’ll come for Bucky. It may be in the form of a car accident, a rogue bullet that gets chalked up to gang violence or a low-life criminal thug looking for the paper in his wallet. There’s countless ways to dispose of Bucky and make it look like an accident. He swallows roughly. His body is vibrating with an anxiety he hasn’t felt since he took the bar exam. He doesn’t want to die– not yet. He’s got a chance to _save_ someone and he may not even get to do it.

“Bucky?”

He jumps, dropping his coffee mug with a clatter. Both he and Steve stare at the shards like they can’t comprehend why it happened. Fear has a way of penetrating deep into Bucky. It can stir around his insides, make him behave in ways he wishes he wouldn’t. He sucks in a deep breath, it’s shaky and exposes everything he’s feeling.

Steve steps cautiously around the broken mug and pulls Bucky into him. He cups the back of Bucky’s head and _holds_ him like he’s never done before. His muscles are warm against Bucky’s skin, they’re strong, solid and _real_. He’s tucking Bucky’s head into his neck and Bucky’s going pliantly because he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s scared. He’s never feared for his life before. Moments of _oh shit that car just ran a red light_ or _stop texting while driving dumbass!_ He’s never _truly_ felt like his life was on the line. It is now. His neck is exposed and he can feel the cool steel smirking above his neck.

He grips Steve as hard as he can, takes in big gulps of Steve’s scent and holds it inside. He can’t stop. He can’t give into a corporation– a _man_ who abuses Bucky’s beloved justice system. He won’t let an innocent man– a purely innocent man– go down for a crime he didn’t even commit. Bucky’s life is all he has to give. He kisses Steve’s neck, his chin, his nose– soft and feather-light. Steve blinks in surprise. He’s so vulnerable and yet he’s trying to comfort Bucky. He doesn’t even know _why_ but here he is. Bless Steve Rogers. Whatever God is up there, Bucky prays They love Steven Grant Rogers. Because Bucky does.

Tears warm Bucky’s eyes as he keeps kissing Steve. They stream down his face and shine off of Steve’s cheeks but Bucky can’t stop kissing. He loves Steve. It hit him fast and hard but it’s here, and Bucky’s not going to bother wasting his potentially short life freaking out about falling for someone too soon. When you know you know– we can’t help who we love. And Bucky Barnes loves Steve Rogers.

He pulls back and wipes at his eyes. Steve’s looking at him with that adorable pinched brow and round blue eyes. He’s so beautiful that Bucky wishes they could take pictures together, or Bucky could take stupid home videos of Steve smiling, laughing– _eating_. Anything. If Bucky dies, all he’ll be is a memory to Steve. The thought hurts so much that Bucky pulls Steve back into him. He holds Steve’s head against his neck. His chest is heaving and Steve just lets it happen. They don’t speak. Steve doesn’t yelp or protest and the silence he offers is the most beautiful sound Bucky’s ever heard. He can focus on the way Steve feels in his arms– a hard body with a beating pulse. Bucky kisses Steve’s head. He sniffs, trying to stop the tears that tumble from his eyes.

Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s chest right above his heart. He nuzzles into Bucky, a smile on those red lips. Bucky’s heart beats against Steve’s hand, like a silent conversation all its own. Bucky looks at the clock on the microwave. He has to go. Pulling away from Steve, and _meaning_ it this time is the hardest thing he’s had to do. He’s behaving strangely and Steve has to be scared because of it. Steve doesn’t know the evil that’s holding him captive, but Bucky does. He’s heard the horror stories of when men in power have motives behind legal cases. He’s seen attorneys go missing and no one even knew why. Over three hundred human rights attorneys went missing in China all because they had the audacity to believe in _human rights_. Attorneys are at the forefront of a war that silently ravages the world and _no one_ cares. They’re just attorneys, right? Scumbags who get rapists out of jail time and put murders back on the streets.

No one cares that it was an attorney that made sure gay marriage became legal. No one cares that it was an _attorney_ that helped Argentina _finally_ achieve justice after the “Dirty War.” And no one’s going to give a shit about one Bucky Barnes who tried to save an innocent man. Attorneys are just scumbags right? Liars, cheaters, men in suits who have cold hearts. Everyone knows the jokes, the stereotypes. What do you call a bunch of dead attorneys at the bottom of the ocean? _A good start._

“I’ve got a meeting,” Bucky whispers. His voice sounds far away. He goes cold when he steps away from Steve. Guilt chews on his heart. Fear constricts his nerves. He looks back at Steve and tries to smile. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You know that?”

Steve stares back in surprise, his pretty little mouth hanging open.

Bucky doesn’t wait for an answer. He’s almost afraid that it won’t be the one he’s searching for. He jogs through the living room, watching a befuddled Sam track his movements. He quickly dresses into a suit with a plum button down and shoves on some brown loafers. He combs his fingers through his hair and stares at himself in the mirror. His eyes are red, his cheeks sallow but his shoulders are broad and his hands are steady now. He’s got work to do. He’ll save Steve Rogers even if it kills him.

Even if it kills him.

* * *

Bucky walks among the dinosaur bones in the Museum of Natural History. He keeps his eyes peeled for men in black suits that look like fancy hitmen. Peter’s over by one of the T-Rex bones, pretending to read over the information. Bucky moves beside him. He pushes one of the buttons and the exhibit starts talking to him. _Tyrannosaurus lived throughout what is now western North America, on what was then an island continent known as Laramidia._

“Hey,” Peter says. “They’ve got someone following me, but I lost him over in Ancient Egypt. You’ve no idea how awkward it is to change clothes while trying to hide behind a mummy display.”

“I need everything you know.” Bucky presses another button, bringing up a map where the T-Rex used to live.

“We don’t got time for that.” Peter looks over his shoulder. “Not here at least.” He grabs Bucky’s hand and they run for the nearest bathroom.

Bucky’s eyes widen as he’s being ushered into the handicap stall and slammed into the wall.

“Moan,” Peter says.

“What?”

 _“Moan_ you dipshit!”

Bucky moans loud enough to make the guy at the urinal hurry it the fuck out of there. He yelps when Peter gets on his knees in front of him, but then there’s a hand over his mouth and Peter’s glaring bloody murder at him.

“They’ve got my Aunt May in some hotel. Don’t know where. They let her talk to me once a day.”

“Who’s they?” Bucky asks, knocking Peter’s hand from his mouth.

“Osfucks! You even been payin’ attention!” He shifts on his knees. If anyone comes in, they’ll see under the stall door some kid giving a guy a blow job. Bucky leans his head back. He may as well play his part too.

“Okay so Oscorp has your aunt. What about Sarah Rogers?”

Peter shrugs. “Dunno ‘bout her. I think she’s safe as long as her kid gets sent to prison.”

“Why do they need Steve convicted so badly?”

“To bury a dirty secret.” Peter sighs heavily, looking at his fingers. “I should be holding your hips.”

“Peter, what’s the secret?”

“If I tell you, they’ll know you know.” Peter looks up at him with brown eyes too defiant to belong to someone so young. Bucky crossed those eyes off as youth, but now he realizes he’d been wrong. These are the eyes of a boy who’s seen too much for the short years he’s lived. It’s unfair, really.

“I can protect myself. Tell me.”

“Moan again. Loud.”

“Why?”

“Do it!”

“Oh _God, fuck!_ ” Bucky moans out, hitting his head back against the bathroom wall. “Fuck so good.”

Peter smirks. “You’re good at that.”

“Thanks.” Bucky smiles back. How many school children has he scarred today? Bright minds of the future now poisoned with sinful words they’ll carry as they grow. The purest of intentions even taint those too unaware to notice. The world’s truly a dark place even when it doesn’t mean to be.

“Harry wasn’t– well. He was my best friend, but I know things about him. He wasn’t always good.” Peter grimaces, sitting back. “Sometimes he was really bad.”

They freeze as the door opens and someone comes in. Peter blinks twice before he’s got his hands on Bucky’s hips and his face is nuzzling along the line of Bucky’s cock.

“Ah!” Bucky doesn’t even have to pretend as his body lights up from the light sensation. He curls his fingers into Peter’s hair and they both wait for the person to get out.

Then the familiar sound of pissing echoes into the room and they both relax. Peter pinches the inside of Bucky’s thigh and Bucky yelps. He mouths _moan_ again and Bucky does. He lets out a long purring moan that makes the pissing guy scurry over to the sink and then out without drying his hands.

“You like this don’t you?” Bucky asks slyly.

“Harry was into hurting people. He raped a lot of girls, killed a few people. He never did it in public, but Gwen pissed him off. I saw everything.”

The world slows before Bucky’s eyes. Peter Parker is the prime witness and that’s exactly why Oscorp is honed in on him. Out of respect to Harry, Peter’s alive, but only if he cooperates. His life’s in danger and yet here he is doing what he can to help Steve– a man he doesn’t even know. He’s the bravest person Bucky’s ever met.

“Harry got pissed at Gwen, he started ripping her clothes off. Flash and the other guys tried to calm him down but he attacked them. Steve wasn’t even there yet. He came out when Harry had killed Eddie and was trying to kill Flash. He was still screamin’ about how he was gonna rape Gwen– saying it’s what she deserved.” Peter gulps. “Steve probably remembers when he jumped in to save Flash. That’s how he got blood on him.”

“Oh Jesus,” Bucky whispers.

“We were in an alley and as far as I could see, it was just us and Steve. Norman pays cops for them turnin’ a blind eye, but when Steve intervened, they had an issue. They thought he’d talk and Harry _was_ killing people in public– so– they had to do somethin’. But when Harry ‘n Steve were fightin’, the cop missed Steve and injected something into Harry. So he went down and cracked the back of his skull from Steve’s weight. After that he called in more cops to make it look like Steve did it all I guess.”

“The cop was trying to kill Steve,” Bucky states flatly. God, Steve is so far over his head and he doesn’t even know it.

“Yeah.” Peter nods. “More cops showed up, people were seein’ it, and it really _did_ look like Steve killed them so the cop just decided to roll with it– I guess. He got into the back of the squad car with Steve and the next thing I know, I’m being dragged away by cops. But they don’t take me to the station. I get taken to Norman and he tells me as long as I don’t talk, he won’t hurt Aunt May. He tells me they’re gonna let it all go to trial and then.” Peter sucks in a deep breath. “Oh God, Bucky.”

“What?” Bucky’s barring his teeth. His heart’s screaming wildly at the words tumbling from Peter’s mouth. Everything this case was supposed to be, it’s all a conveniently fabricated story to make up for one dirty cop’s mistake. Though, he killed Norman Osborn’s son. He’s probably not even alive anymore. Osborn probably flayed the skin from his body and dipped him in one of his nuclear power plants.

“They’re gonna kill him. They’ve got guys on the inside. Prison mates, cops, bodyguards, I dunno. I just know that’s the end game. That’s when I get Aunt May back.”

“Wait,” Bucky says, brow furrowing. “Why’re you telling me this then? If that’s how you get her back, how do I know I can even trust you?” Bucky looks to the stall door. He’s let himself be led into a room with no escape. Who’s to say Peter didn’t just lure him out here to get murdered. Jesus! Bucky can be so _stupid_ sometimes!

“Because it needs to end.” Peter’s voice sounds tight. His eyes are filling with tears and his lithe shoulders are shaking. “I can’t be part of this anymore. When you know the things that I do, but you don’t tell, and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you." He looks up at Bucky earnestly. For all his almost nineteen years of age, he’s got more wisdom than men on their deathbeds. He’s braver than a knight facing a bloody battle on the field and he’s kinder than a saint. Bucky slides to his knees, wrapping his hands around Peter’s neck.

“I promise you,” Bucky says. “I will do _everything_ to get her back.”

A chunky tear falls from Peter’s eye. He nods, swallowing. “I believe you. That’s why I wanna help. You’ve had every opportunity to go on the attack with Gwen and you never have. I looked Steve up. At least his public military records. I found some of his friends and we just– talked.” Peter smiles. “He’s a great guy and I don’t wanna see him hurt for this. I really did like Harry, but I made a mistake when I didn’t tell anyone what happened. I’ve got a lot of death to make up for, sir.”

Bucky runs his hand through Peter’s hair, like a father proud of his son. “If you told anyone, they would’ve killed you.”

Peter laughs, but it’s tense and too full of regret to be considered happy. “Don’t wanna know how I tracked down Steve’s friends? I wanna be a reporter– for _The Daily Bugle_. _”_

“Thought you were into science. Read that in a paper.” Bucky sits back, stretching his legs. He’s sitting on a bathroom floor. He needs at least five showers when he gets home. He also needs to burn this suit.

“Science is investigation. Who says I can’t do both?”

“I like your chutzpah, kid.” Bucky groans as he makes his way to stand. He offers a helping hand and pulls Peter up. “You gonna be okay?”

Peter puts his hood up. He unlocks the stall and they filter into the rest of the bathroom. He shrugs, checking himself in the mirror. Bucky does the same and instantly regrets it. He looks awful.

“I’ll be okay. Just, do right by them okay? There’s a lot of life at stake. Not just Steve’s.”

“I know.”

“They could kill you– you know? Like, if they find out I talked to you? They’ll kill you.” Peter shrinks in on himself. “And us.”

“I know.”

“That doesn’t scare you?”

The question strikes Bucky as almost funny. It’s funny because this kid thinks that Bucky’s some brave and powerful guy. He’s trusting Bucky with his literal life and it’s because he really believes Bucky can do something. Again, the world shows its true colors. Bucky’s just one man with _one_ law degree.

He reaches out and gives Peter’s shoulder a little squeeze. He’s a lot firmer despite his narrow frame. “Peter, I’m fuckin’ terrified. But that’s not gonna stop me from trying. If I die, I die knowing I did everything I could.”

Peter licks his lips. “You’re a cool guy, you know? Like if you weren’t old enough to be my dad, we’d be friends.”

Bucky laughs, playfully punching Peter’s shoulder. “Amscray, kid. They’re watchin’ you– not me.”

Peter grimaces. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

Peter walks to the door and hovers a hand over it. “They’re watching you too. They’re watchin’ all of us.” He leaves and Bucky feels like he’s been punched in the mouth.

He presses his back to the wall, trying to ground himself. He doesn’t know these people, how they dress or what they look like. He’s not sure if they’re residents in the building or taxi drivers on the street. They could be anyone.

And Bucky Barnes is just one man.

* * *

Sam’s cooking burgers when Bucky gets back home. The smell is _divine_ and for a split second, Bucky forgets he’s got a giant corporation breathing down his neck to hide a dirty little secret about their twisted golden boy.

“Bucky!” Steve says as he’s running into Bucky’s arms.

“Hey, Kitten,” Bucky whispers, kissing Steve’s ear. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I scared you.” He grips Steve tight, stroking his fingers through blond strands and gently sways them from side to side. “You’re the best, you know that? You’re so good and I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes you do.” Steve’s pressed into Bucky’s neck. His breath is warm and it’s everything Bucky’s ever wanted in a companion. Bucky could be a shell of a human being and Steve would know how to bring him back, just as Steve _was_ that shell and Bucky had brought him back (albeit with panic).

“I hate your clothes right now,” Bucky says, kissing Steve’s neck. “Want ‘em off.”

Steve jerks up, looking over at Sam in the kitchen. “But–”

“You gonna be a bad boy for me?” In any other circumstance, Bucky wouldn’t be doing this. Sam _is_ a guest and he should be entertaining him. He should be working to get to know Sam better and maybe cal Matt and Foggy now. Lord knows he needs all the help. He’s not sure if involving them will get them killed or not. He has to think about that. Though right now, he wants to know what it feels like to make love to Steve. He doesn’t want a scene. He doesn’t want whips, cock cages or toys. He wants Steve’s body pressed against his own. Just to experience that gentle warmth that Steve’s body always provides, that’s all he wants. He doesn’t know if he’ll get a tomorrow, so it has to be today.

“I don’t– I don’t wanna be bad.”

Bucky crowds Steve against the wall. If Sam can see them from the kitchen, he doesn’t say anything about it. Bucky gets a leg between Steve’s. He’s at Steve’s exposed neck, kissing along the muscles and feeling the slight tremble of tendons. He’s so kissable, Bucky could do it till he wasted away into ash taken by the wind.

“Oh _God_ , Sir,” Steve whines, clutching at Bucky’s shoulder blades.

“No,” Bucky says. “I’m just Bucky. I don’t want a scene. I just–” His voice cracks and he looks over his shoulder at the archway to the kitchen. Sam’s clearly ignoring them on purpose. He’s even whistling. “I just want you.”

Steve’s eyes round. He stares at Bucky like he’s grown a second head, but then a smile spreads over those beautiful lips. He’s wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck, pulling himself closer and nuzzling at Bucky’s nose. Bucky lets out a shuddered breath, gripping Steve’s shoulders.

“I’ve gotcha,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, Bucky.”

Bucky closes his eyes, dropping his forehead against Steve. It’s not okay. Bucky should be giving Steve what _he_ wants, not what Bucky wants. Bucky’s a tool to be used by Steve and right now he’s getting too greedy. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work and yet Bucky can’t stop himself. If he doesn’t get this _one_ thing, he may never get it. He’ll be the best damn Dom the world’s ever seen tomorrow (if he gets there), but right now, he just wants Steve’s warmth, his body and his kisses. He doesn’t want scenes or pet names.

“Bedroom,” Bucky says. “Now.”

Steve slips out from Bucky’s grasp and practically skips off into the bedroom. At least Bucky’s still got it in him to be authoritative. He walks by the kitchen archway and hears Sam muttering something about _fuckin’ white boys_. Bucky laughs to himself while he walks to the bedroom.

He stops at the door, closing it behind him. Steve’s already on the bed, still fully dressed. He’s sitting up and licking at his lips like there’s sugar on them.

“How do you want me?”

Bucky shakes his head. “How do you want you?” He furrows his brow. “Wait, is it even okay? That I–”

“I like being a sub, Bucky,” Steve says. “But I don’t need to be always. If you need me to be something else, I can do that for you. I– I want to.”

Bucky smiles. Relief soothes his clenched muscles. He allows himself to lean back on the door, his eyes lidded. “I mean, we don’t have to be entirely vanilla about it.”

Steve smirks. “Oh yeah?”

“You like authority kink, right?”

Steve purrs, licking at his lips again. “Oh yeah.”

“Stand up.” Bucky slowly walks in a circle as Steve comes into the middle of the room. He moves around Steve like a predator, eyeing each article of clothing and wondering the fastest way to get it off. “Take off your shirt.”

Steve does. Bucky admires the way Steve’s body elongates as he arches to pull the fabric from his neck. He drops it to the floor and smiles, watching Bucky.

Bucky gets closer, caressing over the curves of Steve’s muscles. He traces his hands along the lines and dips of Steve’s body, mapping it all out like it’s Bucky’s last line of getting out of the hole he’s dug himself into. He reaches up to Steve’s face, outlining those red lips with the tips of his fingers. If this is the last thing he sees before he dies, then he’s lived a good life.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bucky whispers.

Steve’s brow pinches together and he lets out a tiny laugh, almost like he doesn’t truly believe the words Bucky’s saying.

Bucky slips his hands down Steve’s torso and along the rolling outlines of his abs. “Do you want me to take my clothes off?”

Steve nods.

“I did promise you whatever you wanted, didn’t I?”

Steve nods again, smiling.

Bucky steps back, his arms outstretched. “C’mere then.” He watches Steve’s excited fingers as Steve decides what to take off first. He starts at the buttons, plucking one by one. Bucky distantly remembers he said he was going to shower, but now he really doesn’t give a fuck. It’s a museum. How gross can that floor really be anyway? Steve kisses along Bucky’s collarbone as he pushes the shirt and suit jacket off. His fingers fan out over Bucky’s chest, digging into the meat of his pecs.

Steve seeks out a kiss, tender at first, almost reluctant, but Bucky grabs the back of his head. Steve moans into the kiss, rolling his hips forward as his nails scratch down Bucky’s chest.

Bucky hisses from the pain but he doesn’t pull back. He’d never pull back from Steve Rogers. Steve’s fingers dip into his waistband, just teasing and letting Bucky know they’re there. He still doesn’t break the kiss. Steve slips his hand down and cups Bucky through his pants. His hand is large, warm and steady as it slowly caresses up and down Bucky’s shaft.

“Steve,” Bucky whispers against Steve’s lips. “Mmm, you don’t have to ask permission.”

“Okay.” Steve kisses Bucky one last time before unbuttoning Bucky’s pants and tugging them down– briefs and all. He looks down, eyes wide and pupils blown. “God I want that in me.”

Bucky laughs, nipping at Steve’s lips. “Get on the bed then.”

“Not yet,” Steve says. “I’ve never– I mean, is it okay if I just look? And– um– touch?”

Bucky grabs Steve’s hands, bringing them to his naked body. “Whatever you want.”

Steve traces his hands along Bucky’s clavicles, down the curve of his biceps and down to the wrists. He’s nibbling at his lips and Bucky can’t stop smiling. He’s admiring Bucky like a piece of art. He traces his hands along Bucky like Bucky had done to Steve. He’s memorizing Bucky’s body and Bucky can’t stop the gasp that escapes his lips. He’s breathing heavily, watching Steve like this all may end at any moment and he can’t let it be over so soon.

Steve grabs Bucky’s jaw softly, leading their mouths to each other again. He slips his tongue into Bucky’s mouth, easy and like there’s no urgency in the world. Like a fixed trial isn’t staring them down or like Bucky isn’t terrified any moment will be his last. Steve doesn’t know, not yet. Bucky doesn’t want to do that to him now. He just wants to cherish this moment for as long as he can. Make love all night. Kiss till his lips are cracked and bleeding. Whisper…

“I love you.” Bucky hadn’t meant to say it then, but maybe there really was no perfect moment to say it but the present. He could be shot by a sniper any minute anyway. That thought still doesn’t hold back the fear that tugs at his heart.

Steve’s eyes go glassy. His whole body freezes. They stare at each other, Steve with eyes wide and Bucky feeling like he’s about to puke.

“I– um– You don’t have to feel the same. I-t’s not like we have to fall at the same time. I mean– Jesus, fuck.”

Steve giggles. It breathes life into Bucky, soothing his aching heart. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky, caressing his fingers in brown hair. “It’s okay.”

Bucky looks down, dejection eating at his heart.

“Hey.” Steve grabs Bucky’s chin. “I mean, this– just because I’m not saying it doesn’t mean I don’t feel somethin’ for you. I do. I just have a lot goin’ on, Buck.”

“I know.” Bucky swallows roughly. In movies, people fall in love at the exact same time and it’s the most magical moment on the screen. There’s kisses, smiles and _we’re gonna be together forever_. But this isn’t a movie. Bucky’s life is playing to a viewing of one: Bucky Barnes. There’s no magical moment that makes them fall in love together. Steve doesn’t love him, at least not yet, and that’s okay. That’s life. People move at different speeds and Bucky shouldn’t expect it any differently. He feels foolish, moderately embarrassed and more than terrified that he’s just wrecked up their entire dynamic. But this is real life. This is how real life moves.

“Bucky.” Steve kisses him. “I care about you.” He kisses him again. “We don’t– we don’t hafta do this if–”

Bucky grabs Steve’s wrist, yanking and bringing them together. He pushes Steve down into the bed, loving how Steve’s thighs spread and wrap around him. Their lips are tangling, sloshing saliva, tongues and teeth together as if no one had ever taught them how to kiss. It’s fast, it’s wet, it’s _magnificent_. Bucky rocks into Steve, mildly amused that he’s naked and Steve _still_ isn’t. He reaches for Steve’s sweats, pulling and tugging until they can’t go any further because he’s in the way.

Steve kicks them off, wrapping his legs back around Bucky, reaching up and pulling him back into a kiss. It’s so wet, it’s so warm. There’s a glow beneath Steve’s skin, sun-kissed and radiant. Bucky kisses his baby’s shoulders, his chin, his throat. He’s desperate for this man. If this is the last thing he sees, _he has lived a good life_.

“Bucky,” Steve whines, rocking up. “W-want you.”

“Want me what?” Bucky whispers, sucking at Steve’s ear. “Make you feel good?”

Steve nods.

Bucky places one last kiss on Steve’s lips before shimmying down the bed. He kisses Steve’s thighs, nibbling on the trembling skin. Steve’s hands are down in Bucky’s hair, tugging and twisting without thought or pause. It eggs Bucky on and he bites down Steve’s beautiful ass and licks between his cheeks.

“Bucky!”

Bucky looks up, smiling devilishly. “I’ve gotta ask– and I’m not gonna care, but– how clean?”

“I clean myself every day praying you’d stick your tongue in me. Buck c’mon, please.” Steve spreads his legs more, pushing his ass into Bucky’s face.

Bucky laughs but spreads Steve’s cheeks and licks a teasing circle around that fluttering rim. Steve’s moaning loudly and Bucky feels slightly guilty for Sam, but not enough to stop. Bucky flicks his tongue out, slipping it in and out of Steve’s body, tasting him so intimately that no one would ever be able to describe Steve as accurately as Bucky could. This is real life, and Steve doesn’t love Bucky yet, but that’s okay. Because he _does_ care. He may fall in love, he may not. That’s part of life. All Bucky can do is live until he can’t. He’s this man’s attorney– his lover… his Dom.

And Doms would die for their subs if it were necessary.

Bucky works in a finger, swirling it next to his tongue as he moves to suck against Steve’s pretty pink hole. He’s anxious, overflowing with desire and most of all– scared shitless that somehow he’ll let Steve down. Steve’s mewling is the only clue that Bucky’s doing well and he’ll keep doing it as long as Steve needs him to. He pulls his finger back, replacing it with his tongue and hooking it inside Steve, tugging against the rim until it’s popping out.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Steve purrs, arching his back. “That’s good, Bucky. Fuck…fuck that’s good.”

Bucky pushes his face into Steve’s ass. His chin is coated with saliva, some his and some Steve’s. He’s carelessly fingering at Steve’s perineum, pulling all sorts of whines from Steve’s pretty little lips. His tongue works inside Steve, swirling and flattening. If Steve doesn’t love him yet, at least he’ll love Bucky’s tongue (call Bucky slightly competitive– it’s a lawyer thing).

He pulls back, wiping at his slicked up face. Steve’s flushed pink from the head all the way down to his navel. His eyes are black, hooded and staring up at Bucky like he’s a god. Bucky smiles, listening to heaving breath and tiny gasps.

“How you doin’ baby?”

“Y-your mouth… is sin… in a good way.”

Bucky puffs out his chest, proud. “Yeah well. Just wait.”

“I can’t. I don’t wanna wait anymore. I need you in me. Please, please now.”

Bucky nods, slinking off the bed and over to his dresser with the toys, condoms and lube. He pulls out what he needs and works the rubber onto his cock. Then he’s pouring out more than necessary amounts of lube and slicking himself up. He doesn’t want to hurt Steve, not like this, but Steve’s asking for it and Bucky can’t _not_ give it to him.

He comes back to the bed and Steve brings one leg up over Bucky’s shoulder and one around his waist. He’s licking his lips so much that they’re swollen and red as blood. Bucky can’t help but swoop in for a kiss.

“You sure?”

“Bucky, I’ve thirsted after that cock like a man in the desert. Shove it up my ass before I scream.”

Bucky smirks, lining up. “Oh I’ll get you to scream.”

“Jesus, you’re such a– Oh shit!” Steve arches off the bed, his teeth clenching. He grabs onto Bucky, whining.

“What was it that you were saying?”

“I hate you,” Steve grits out.

“I believe it was, ‘shove it up my ass–’”

“Oh my God! I know! Bucky I know! Just keep fucking me!”

So Bucky does, he slips further and further and further into Steve. Warmth cradles Bucky’s body. He gasps when Steve clamps down around him, muscles working to accommodate. He never wants to leave this man’s body. It’s broad, protective and firm. It belongs to the perfect man– an innocent man– too good for the world and Bucky selfishly wants to keep him forever. Whether it’s achievable or not remains to be seen but right now, that doesn’t matter.

Bucky _has_ Steve. He’s going to give and give and give until there’s nothing left. If Steve needs Bucky’s blood, his body and his life, Bucky will _give_ it eagerly and without question. He’s in love with a sacrificial lamb. All Bucky can do is be the watchdog that protects him.

He presses his lips to Steve’s, eager and scratchy as stubble scrapes against skin. Steve’s body is arching up into him, rocking with Bucky’s fast rhythm. His muscles flutter and clamp around Bucky like it’s been designed to do it. Bucky can’t last like this– he won’t. There’s too much emotion behind his sternum, it’s spreading through him like wildfire and there’s _nothing_ he can do to stop it.

Steve’s fingers scratch at Bucky’s shoulders, thrust by thrust. His lips suck at Bucky’s and the _sounds_ that escape them? Jesus, Bucky could die from those sounds alone. Soft, innocent little notes that caress the air like silk.

He rocks into Steve, pressing deep and holding it there. Steve moans loudly, grabbing at Bucky’s hair and yanking. “You like that?” Bucky asks, panting.

“I like everything about you.”

Bucky slips out to the rim, slowly letting himself move back inside. Steve’s eyes flutter. He drops his hands to the bed and moans louder than he had before.

“Buck, God– Jesus.”

“Bucky was right the first time.” He kisses Steve’s cheek.

“You’re the sassiest motherfucker I’ve ever met.”

“I’m sorry, you’ve met yourself too right?”

“Stop talking and more fucking!” Steve yanks at Bucky’s head, clashing their lips together. They roll over and Steve moves like Bucky’s never expected. It’s fluid, singular and yet it’s everywhere. His whole body, head to toe dances and sways into Bucky, pulling him deep and deeper inside.

“Oh fuck, fuck, Steve!” Bucky lets Steve pull back, showing off the way his muscles contract and relax. He runs his hands down Steve’s abs, mesmerized. “You’re– you’re so beautiful.”

“So’re you,” Steve says, swiveling his hips.

“Oh _Christ_!” Bucky lurches up, grabbing Steve and holding him as close as he can. “God baby, you’re so good.”

Steve laughs, nipping at Bucky’s jaw. “Poor Sam.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “Poor Sam indeed.”

Steve tugs to the side and Bucky finds himself rolling on top again. He kisses down Steve’s face, reaching for his baby’s cock. “Wanna come yet?”

Steve nods, clamping around Bucky’s cock. “If you do.” He’s a fucking devil and he knows it. Bucky’s heart swells more, drunk and stupid on how much it loves this man.

Bucky spits over Steve’s cock, moving his hand to glide the saliva up and down. Steve’s breath hitches and he rocks up and down into Bucky’s hand, his hole still quivering around Bucky. He plays with Steve’s slit, pushing his finger against it before pumping long strokes up and down. It’s still swollen from the sound and each time Bucky fingers at it, Steve squeezes his ass around Bucky as tight as possible.

Steve slams his head back into the pillow, gritting his teeth and growling. “I’m gonna–”

“S’okay,” Bucky says, kissing Steve’s cheek. “You’ve got permission.”

Steve cries out, his muscles seizing around Bucky. His legs are trembling and squeezing with all their might. Bucky watches, transfixed as come squirts onto Steve’s torso, glistening against the sunset in the room.

“Bucky… Bucky... fuck… fuck…” Steve pants, chest heaving. “Come on me. Fuck, come on me.”

Bucky pulls out, snapping the condom off quickly before the heat in his body cools away. He pumps over his cock, snapping his hips into his hand as he forces himself to orgasm. He grits his teeth as it hits him, tingling up his spine and clamoring out of him. He groans, rocking forward to let his come mix with Steve’s. Steve’s abdomen is clenching, pooling come between the lines of his muscles. Bucky falls forward, lapping it up. Warm and bitter, but it’s his and Steve’s. He noses along Steve’s trembling skin, listening to light giggles and feeling Steve’s fingers in his hair.

“You’re cute,” Steve whispers. “And I like the way you fuck.”

Bucky sits back. He stares at Steve’s flushed face, admiring the way the pink brings out the sharp angles of his face. There’s sweat glistening off Steve’s brow and his hair’s sticky and matted down. He’s still handsome. Men don’t _look_ like this anymore and yet here Steve is, a classic born during modern times.

“S’not fucking to me.” Bucky wants to take the words back. He clamps his mouth shut, pressing his lips together.

“I know it’s not.” Steve shifts, scooting closer to Bucky. “And I want it again. But I–”

“I know, Steve. I already know.” Bucky’s never crashed so hard after sex before. He feels like his face is being pushed into the mud and someone’s standing on him and laughing.

“You didn’t let me finish, Sir.”

Bucky waits.

“I want to explore so much with you. So don’t look like that, please? For the first time since this all started– I’m actually confident. I believe in you, Bucky. You’re doing so much for me and I’m just– sitting, I dunno. But you make me feel like we really can do this. I didn’t kill those men, right?”

“Allegedly,” Bucky responds because that’s how lawyers always respond.

Steve smiles. “How bad would it be if I amended my plea? What’s that called?”

“Motion to amend plea. You were mostly right.”

“I didn’t do this, Buck.” Steve furrows his brow. “I _didn’t_ kill those boys. They told me I did, so I believed them but– but you know I didn’t. Right?”

Bucky nods. He doesn’t have the heart to take this away from Steve. Steve’s smiling so easily. He’s not wringing his hands or trying to make himself smaller. He’s carefree, relaxed and melting into the pillows. Bucky can’t destroy that with how deep of shit they’re really in. He can’t ruin this yet. He just wants to see Steve happy. Is that so much to ask? To see him happy, even for a little while?

“I wanna change my plea. I’m not guilty because I’m not guilty. I didn’t do it.”

Bucky runs his tongue over his teeth. He could argue all the ways that a self-defense claim is safer than a total innocence claim. He could suggest they stay in this tactic for now because it’s just one guy’s testimony versus what the prosecution has. None of it matters anyway. Steve’s trial is rigged unless Bucky can get to Judge Jameson. Maybe even Jen? He can’t imagine the prosecution is in on it. They’d be going for Steve anyway without the aid of a bribe.

“Bucky?”

“Okay,” Bucky says slowly. “You didn’t do it. And we know the truth. We’ll find a way, Steve.”

Steve lunges into Bucky’s arms. He’s so big that he barrels Bucky into the bed. He’s laughing and it’s almost a foreign sound because he’s never laughed so openly before. It’s the sound of birds in the early morning or distant children at a playground. It’s music and wraps Bucky up in its happiness that even he starts to laugh.

Bucky doesn’t have the heart to tell Steve that the second they do this, they paint a giant target on Bucky’s back.

“I should tell Sam,” Steve says. He kisses Bucky, quick and chaste before running into the bathroom. He’s humming. Bucky’s never heard him hum like that before. It’s melodic and slightly flat. Bucky wants to fall asleep to those hums every night. He comes out of the bathroom, still flushed pink but that grin is shining. “C’mon. We should tell him together.”

Bucky stands up, walking with less enthusiasm into the bathroom. He quickly washes his hands, between his thighs and his cock. Steve hands him a pair of sweatpants and he puts one leg in at a time.

“You okay?” Steve’s eyes are tight with uncertain fear.

“Tired,” Bucky lies. “Orgasms take a lot out of me.”

“Bucky,” Steve says. He stands in front of up, reaching for his shoulders. “Is this about– ya know– me not sayin’ it back?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “What? No.” He grabs Steve’s hands and kisses them. “I can wait for that.”

“Then what’s wrong? We just– that was so good. Did I–”

“You didn’t do _anything_ wrong.” Bucky watches the way Steve’s body tenses. He tries to pull his hands back but Bucky doesn’t let him. “I guess there’s no use hidin’ it.”

Steve just waits.

“I spoke to Peter Parker again. He had a lot to say. It’s terrifying, Steve. I didn’t–” He looks away, shameful. “I didn’t wanna ruin this.”

“I can take it, Bucky. I know I haven’t been the best client. But that was before. I thought I killed people, Buck. But I didn’t!” He licks his lips expectantly. “It feels so good to have that lifted.”

Bucky smiles, nodding. Of course it would feel good. Steve’s a good man who has good intentions. Death hung over him like a blight. It has to feel freeing, even if he’s still on trial for it. It’s given him hope and Bucky fears what he knows will take that away.

“Let’s go talk to Sam. There’s a lot we need to deal with.” He laces their fingers together, making the way for the door.

Sam’s got earphones in and his eyes are closed. Steve’s about to poke his foot when he says, “Oh no don’t worry. They’re broke.”

“What’re broke?” Steve asks.

Sam points to his earphones. “I heard _everything_.”

Steve looks up at Bucky, his face reddening but that smile’s still there. “Oops.”

“Yeah, oops is right,” Sam says. “Dinner’s in the kitchen.”

“Sorry Sam.” Bucky dips his chin. He’s not really sorry. He wouldn’t change what happened for the world.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Grab a plate, baby,” Bucky whispers, kissing Steve’s temple. “We’ll talk over dinner.”

Steve nods, moving into the kitchen. Bucky takes a moment to look out the window. High vantage point, corner apartment. He could easily get sniped from one of the adjacent buildings. His windows aren’t _that_ big though. Still, if someone’s got all the money in the world, they can pay for the best hitman in the world.

Bucky looks to the TV, hearing a familiarly obnoxious voice. He watches, his mind numbing over as Tony Stark babbles on about his new clean energy and how people can install it in their homes starting next year. He listens to Sam and Steve laughing in the kitchen, which must bring him out of his stupor or something because suddenly it’s like he’s ran a mile.

“I have an idea!” he shouts. He coughs, surprised at how _excited_ he is. He has no idea how this will work out, no idea how probable but he _has an idea_ and that’s more than he had a second ago when he was thinking about how he was going to get sniped.

How do you combat money?

With _more_ money.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to kudo!
> 
> Add me on tumblr! [click me!](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	5. Motion for Extension of Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky digs deeper into his and Steve's relationship. What he finds out makes him see red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've abandoned making the hyperlinks for fake tweets. Call me lazy. XD
> 
> Here's the next chapter :D Half of it is beta'd (by me...) half is not. So...be easy. haha 
> 
> Also there's a lil surprise in here! I commissioned Hopeless--geek for some art to go along with this chapter. You'll see it at the bottom :D (lol bottom)

The best feeling in the world to Bucky is the chill in the air on his exposed skin, the warmth of a body pressed against his bare chest, and the calm that blankets his mind while he listens to the rain tap on the windows.

He absentmindedly strokes his fingers through Steve’s hair, staring at their tangled legs beneath tangled sheets. They’re naked, just the way Bucky likes it. It’s only been a night since they fucked, had sex, whatever it was—Bucky wishes it was love-making. It was for him, at least…

Steve doesn’t love him, but that’s okay. Bucky tells himself over and over that people don’t fall in love at the same speeds. It’s okay. It’s…

Bucky closes his eyes, feeling the sting of tears. If it’s okay, then why does it hurt so much? All Bucky wants to do is _give_. He wants to give his body, his soul, his experience, his dreams, the thousands and thousands of years it took to create him—he wants to give it all to Steve. He wants to wrap all of it around Steve in a protective shield that’ll keep Steve safe from Oscorp, from the eyes of vicious reporters and the cruel, blackened world around them.

Bucky wants to give until he has nothing left—just a useless stump in the earth, proof of something once great, now forever gone. God, that’s all Bucky wants.

He feels Steve stir, looks down at his blond, beautiful baby and smiles. Steve’s everything to him. How did this man, this stubborn, broad-shouldered punk of a man infiltrate Bucky’s heart so fast? Bucky, experienced Dom and sly attorney. How did he fall so fast? He’d been plummeting for the ground and not once did he open his eyes to see how hard he’d crash.

But he’s there now.

He adjusts, pressing his neck back into the pillows. Thunder rolls outside. It’s unusual for winter, fall…whatever it is. Bucky’s not really sure. He needs to check the calendar. If he misses a court appearance he’s in deep shit. Still, the thunder outside is rare, so Bucky savors it. Enjoying the pitter-patter of rain, the flash of lighting. He looks down, watching the rain’s reflection off Steve’s smooth skin—like dancing marble, alive.

“I’m so in love with you,” Bucky whispers. “Please love me one day…please.”

He closes his eyes, still idly stroking his hand back and forth along Steve’s scalp. He can feel drool cooling on his shoulder, but not even God could get him to move right now. Steve drooling on him is the best thing in the world. Everything about this peaceful moment is the best thing in the world.

He wishes it could last. Oscorp is out there, Peter’s in danger—once Steve’s put in jail, he’s dead. Everything’s going to shit, but Bucky can’t bring himself to really _think_ about it. Right now, he’s got Steve sleeping in his arms.

Right now, right now—he just wants to indulge in this quiet moment. He’s sure it’ll be one of the last ones they get for a long time.

* * *

_Gabriel Jones Speaks Out on Rogers v. New York: Claims Trial Will Be Rigged_

_It’s no secret that criminal trials are painted in vivid colors, full of betrayal, character and intrigue. The nation eagerly watches developments in the Rogers v. New York case like it watches March Madness. Harry Osborn’s stolen contributions, the broken hearted Gwen Stacy. This story is all about the intrigue, which is why it’s surprising that little is known about Steven Rogers, other than he’s the alleged brutal killer of Harry Osborn and Edward “Eddie” Brock._

_Today, that may change. Gabriel “Call me Gabe” Jones wrote the New York Times (me), this letter and I think it’s worth reprinting in its entirety._

_Mary,_

_I don’t know if you’ll read this, or who reads all this, but I’m getting tired of it all. Rotten Rogers? Rescue Rogers? Hashtags, opinions, glorification of teens lost too young. Now let me get something out though. People dying before their time? That’s never okay. Osborn and Brock didn’t deserve what happened, but it did. I don’t know what happened, but I can tell you this:_

_Steve Rogers is one of the best damned guys on this planet and this trial is a mockery of our justice system. Let me tell you this. Steve was my Captain in the Army. Yeah, CAPTAIN. The fact that I’m calling him “Steve” must say something._

_He wasn’t just my superior, he was my friend. My wife had a baby while we were stationed in Afghanistan. I was so upset I hadn’t been there. You know what he did? He found a way to get me on leave early. I got to see my little guy before he was a month old. You know how RARE that is for Army guys? You know how hard it is to get leave? Especially if it wasn’t planned? Hard._

_I didn’t learn till my second tour with Steve that he’d given up his own leave for me. He stuck it out in that f****** sandbox longer than he had to, just so I could see my kid._

_Wanna know something else? Sure you do. You reporter types eat this s*** up, and honestly, I’m tired of holding it back. So let’s bring on the sappy s***._

_We were ambushed once (actually a lot but this is a specific story). One of our squad got caught out. He was totally exposed and we all knew he was going to die. I was prepared to make a run for it and get some high ground. Steve? Steve RUNS, right into the lines of fire, risking stepping on LAND MINES for our boy. He took two bullets in the arm, and one in the shoulder. We were mad as h*** at him. You know what he said? I’ll never forget it. “We start abandoning our friends, and we abandon who we are.”_

_This trial is s***. No one knows Steve Rogers. No one knows the guy who kept saving stray cats and dogs while at base (they started following him around. Hilarious). No one knows the guy who saved more women from a**hats who just wanted to stick their d*** in something. No one knows the guy who believed in us, even when we didn’t believe in ourselves. And no one knows that goof who we all swore has two left feet, but my God, he’s got the most charming smile that you forgive him for all his quirkiness. White boy’s got no rhythm, but he’s got heart. Steve isn’t a murderer. He’s a hero. I’m on my last tour, thinking about finally staying home with the wife and my kid, but you should know this. All of us over here? We’re behind Steve. All of us. We know that man. He’s a legend, a hero. A true Captain America. The very nation he swore to protect has crucified him like Jesus._

_Do you all really want to be remembered as the people who condemned a man so great? It’s been over 2000 years or whatever and people are still angry at the Jews. I’m just saying…_

_Gabe Jones._

_Mary Stefonoski, N.Y. Times (2015)._

Bucky stares at the thick case file sent over by the prosecution. Discovery is a time where both sides may gather up evidence, but the catch is both sides need to report what they have to the other. He’s thumbing through the index, not really _looking_ , but he should. Except he can’t. It’s all garbage. None of it is truth. The autopsy reports are even fabricated. Everything—and Bucky means _everything_ relies on Peter Parker. That’s so much for a single teenager to handle. Bucky grimaces. The poor guy’s terrified for his Aunt. He’s doing everything he can and Bucky’s worried even with their forces combined that it won’t be enough. Oscorp is a corporate giant—a damn powerhouse with grubby, greasy hands in everything from the parks children play on to the shiny buildings in Manhattan.

“Damn it.” Bucky leans forward, tugging at his hair. His head’s throbbing. He looks at the clock and whines. He’s dehydrated. He hasn’t even eaten anything since breakfast. Steve’s been out in the living room with Sam for most of the day.

Bucky’s about to give up when his phone chirps. He looks down, seeing Clint’s name.

_I’m gonna burst beat me till im cumming sir_

Bucky sits back, sighing. “Cumming” makes Bucky want to vomit, and the idea of being with anyone other than Steve _also_ makes Bucky want to vomit. He scratches at his shoulder, still staring at the glowing screen. Secrecy has high prices…

Choosing to ignore the text for now, Bucky gets up, pockets his phone and abandons his work for the day. He needs to get enough evidence that he can file for a mistrial anyway… But before that he’s got to put in a motion for extension. He needs more time.

“Somethin’ smells good,” Bucky says, sniffing the air. “Whatcha makin’?” He turns the corner into the kitchen, peeking into the crockpot. Steve and Sam are over in the corner stirring—something? “What’s that?”

“Homemade cornbread. If I’m gonna be hanging out here, I ain’t eatin’ your flavorless food.”

Bucky’s brows shoot up. “My food’s great!”

“Salt and pepper are not the only spices!” Sam turns to open the spice cabinet. There’s at least several different kinds of black pepper and a few salts, paprika, chipotle…and…is that an old can of tuna?

“Oh.”

“Oh’s right.” Sam swats Steve on the ass with a wooden spoon. “Keep stirrin’ bicep-man!”

Steve yelps, going rigid. He looks to Bucky, biting his lip suggestively. Bucky rolls his eyes. He likes having Sam around. Steve’s calmer, more _himself_. Part of Bucky’s outrageously jealous, and the other part just inherently gets it. Sam and Steve are not ying and yang. They are the same side of the same coin, and Steve loves him. That’s good enough for Bucky.

“I’ve got a killer headache,” Bucky says, creeping into the crowded kitchen. Three broad men in this kitchen is pushing it apparently. He reaches for the aspirin next to the knives. His own private joke. If the aspirin won’t kick the pain, the knives surely will… Bad joke, but he thinks it’s funny.

“Do you want me to get you anything?” Steve’s face drowns with worry. His brows knit together in that kicked-puppy kind of way and Bucky’s finding it hard to breathe. Is it hot in here? He’s starting to sweat.

“I just need some meds, Kitten. I’ll be fine.”

“I could give you a massage? Rub your feet or something? Draw you a bath?”

“I could vomit, trip and bust my head open, or scream really loudly,” Sam says, rolling his eyes. “Y’all gotta just be painstakingly cute don’tcha?”

Bucky smiles. “Nah, just Steve.”

Sam snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Steve’s redder than a tomato, looking between his best friend and his lover. He inches over to Bucky, wrapping his arms around his middle. “You sure you don’t want me to do anything for you? I like when you need me.”

Bucky smiles. Steve’s presence does more for him than the anti-inflammatory he just popped into his system. He kisses Steve’s jaw, the man’s too tall for him to kiss his forehead standing, and shakes his head. “We’ll talk about somethin’ along _that_ train later, okay Kitten?”

Steve’s pupils dilate. He melts into Bucky, nodding breathlessly.

Bucky peels Steve from his body, shifting him back over to Sam. “Keep makin’ cornbread, punk.”

Steve nods, nibbling his bottom lip. He has to know what he does to Bucky by this point. That body, those lips… It drives Bucky more than mad, it makes him utterly unhinged.

“So what’s the gameplan?” Sam asks, sneaking out of the kitchen to follow Bucky. “We goin’ after Oscorp or what?”

“Jesus,” Bucky flops on the couch, “it ain’t that easy, Sam. I’ve got a target on my back, Steve’s only good to them if he’s in prison and we’ve got to think about Steve’s mom.”

“So we move her?” Sam sits on the coffee table, his brows pulling together. “I’ve got a place she can go. My parents have a nice vacation home in the Smokey Mountains.”

Bucky nods. “That may not be a bad idea.”

“You know,” Steve says, leaning on the wall, “I don’t know much about law, but I do know that you’re legally required to consult with me when it comes to my case. At minimum. I at least have to be informed.”

“Someone’s been reading the rules of professional conduct,” Bucky says, sitting back. “I’d tell you, don’t worry.”

“I put the cornbread in.” Steve walks over to the sofa, slipping into Bucky’s lap. For a large man, he makes himself impossibly small. He curls into Bucky, like the little kitten he is and tucks his head under Bucky’s chin. “So we move my ma and then what?”

“Then we have to be careful,” Bucky flicks Steve’s nose, “or I’m gonna end up dead.”

Steve’s eyes go wide. He sits up, grabbing Bucky by the collar and pulls him forward. “They wouldn’t!”

Bucky just smiles sadly. They absolutely would. The shock in Steve’s face is so wounded, like a man learning God doesn’t give a single shit about him. Bucky aches for him—for the purity that he used to be. Steve isn’t a saint. He never was. But he was _light_ once, in some way. There’s age around his mouth now, a crease between his brows that won’t go away, his eyes—they’re so tired. This man wield purity like some wield swords. Steve’s no saint. Bucky has to remember that. He _always_ has to remember that, even if sometimes Steve forgets it himself.

“I’ll call my mom, just to make sure it’s okay,” Sam says. “You two uh—you two sort whatever’s in Steve’s head out.”

Bucky nods, feeling his phone vibrate again. He ignores it. “I’ll be okay, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced. He crosses his arms, brow heavy. “I can’t ask you to risk your life for me.”

Bucky smiles. _I love you, you didn’t have to ask_. “Don’t worry about it. Lawyers do this shit all the time.”

“Buck—”

“I ain’t droppin’ your case, so get over it. We know the risks here, Steve. No one’s safe. Gotta move your mom and then we can start worrying about other shit. Till then, I still gotta prepare some kind of argument for you. And now since you’ve amended your plea, I’ve gotta start at square one.”

Steve winces. “Oh, I’m sorry. I—I made it harder,” he ducks his chin, “didn’t I? For you?”

Bucky shrugs. “S’fine. But I gotta tell Matt and Foggy about this shit too. That okay?”

Steve nods.

Bucky caresses Steve’s cheek, laughing softly when Steve moves into his palm and grabs it with his own hands. He nuzzles Bucky’s hand, making that little purring sound he does.

“How do you feel about collars?” Bucky asks, because it’s the only thing he can think about when Steve’s exposed neck is so bare and flawless. This man’s taken bullets before, but the scars are so dim on his body that it’s sometimes hard for Bucky to see. All he sees is the marble, smooth perfection of it all.

“Like, like on me?”

Bucky nods.

Steve chews at his bottom lip, pulling away. Bucky’s body goes cold. He wants to reach out, but he clenches his fists, watching Steve and searching that face for any indication of what he’ll say.

“I’ve never had one.”

Bucky lets out the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. “Color?”

Steve looks over to the hallway, and then back at Bucky. “If it’s yours? Green.”

Bucky tries to blink the tears out of his eyes, but he’s too much of a sap to stop them. Steve barrels into his chest, tugging Bucky down onto the couch and peppering him with the cutest little kisses Bucky’s ever had. Bucky lies there, letting his mind blank out everything except for the way Steve smells, the hardness of his body and the roughness of his wandering hands.

“I want you in me, Sir,” Steve whispers, licking Bucky’s ear. “When can we do that again?”

Bucky smirks, but it’s sad and he knows it. He doesn’t want _that_ again. He’s ashamed of the emotions he felt last time, of the bumbling, inelegant confession he’d spilled. Steve knows Bucky loves him, but he doesn’t love Bucky back. Bucky thought it was okay. But it’s not. It’s not okay.

It stings too much.

“Later,” Bucky says. An ambiguous answer to postpone the inevitable, he thinks. “Gotta focus on your case for a bit.”

Steve leans against Bucky, bringing his hands up and tangling them into Bucky’s hair. “How’s your headache?”

Bucky hums. “S’okay. I’ll live.”

“I want to please, you, Sir,” Steve whispers. “Let me.”

“You do.”

“I need—I need to take care of you.” Steve opens his eyes. They sparkle with tears, like the ocean catching the sun. “I take orders and I want to serve you.”

Bucky sucks in a deep breath, looking at Sam’s returning form. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

Steve nods, leaning back into the sofa. “Okay. Yeah.”

“So,” Sam says entering the room again, “we should be good to move Sarah over to my parents’ vacation home.”

“I should call her and tell her.” Steve pales. “What—uh—I mean—what do I even say? Like? I can’t tell her the truth, right?”

Bucky nods. “Right.”

“Shit.” Sam sits on the sofa. He leans forward, dropping his head into his hands. “Uh, tell her a half truth? Maybe that you don’t want her near this media shitstorm and my mom wants to finally meet her? I’ll go too and get them settled in?”

Steve looks up at Bucky, his brows pulled together. He looks up at Bucky like a child looks up to a hero. It makes Bucky stop breathing.

“Buck?” Steve asks when Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“That’s a good idea.” Bucky clears his throat. “Yeah, uh—yeah that.”

Sam frowns, but he pulls out his phone and starts texting someone. Bucky assumes it’s his mother. After, he stands up and stretches. “Okay, I’m gonna run and get us some lunch. Chipotle? Jimmy Johns? What do y’all want?”

“Chipotle sounds good?” Bucky says, looking at Steve for affirmation. Steve’s shoulders are slumped but he nods. Bucky grimaces, watching Steve. He’s getting that tightness under his skin again, muscles straining as he mulls over how everything’s his fault when it’s not… Bucky’s astounded at how well he can read Steve already.

“Text me orders, I’ll be back!” Sam grabs his jacket and then the door closes.

Silence blankets the room, oppressive. Bucky winces when he hears the little ringing in his mind that becomes overwhelming as the silence rolls on. He clears his throat, looking at Steve. Steve doesn’t look back.

“What’s in that pretty head of yours?” he asks.

“A brain, I think.”

Bucky smiles. “Smartass. Lemme hold you.”

Steve crawls into Bucky’s arms, letting out a soft sigh. He nuzzles his nose into Bucky’s throat. The silence isn’t so bad when Steve’s in Bucky’s arms. He strokes his fingers along Steve’s neck. They listen to the cars far down below, distant sirens. It’s all so inconsequential that Bucky has to remind himself that this _is_ what life’s supposed to feel like. This case has consumed him, etched itself into his bones and painted itself behind his eyes. He doesn’t stop thinking about Steve’s case and the shitstorm they’ve found themselves in. But this? An early afternoon nap of sorts with his boyfriend? This is what _normal_ people do when giant corporations aren’t after them. This is what it’s supposed to feel like.

So Bucky smiles, settling into the couch and wrapping his arms just a bit tighter around Steve. He’s earned this. Even Doms have to take care of themselves once in awhile, and right now all Bucky wants is to smell Steve’s skin, listen to the world keep spinning and stare at nothing.

* * *

Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 2sec  
Did I see Steve is doing a plea bargain? Wait where's the source?! #RescueRogers

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 5sec  
That’s usually what guilty people do… #RottenRogers

Bucky’s so tired. So, so, so, so, so, so, so, _so_ tired. After Sam and Steve called Sarah, it ended up causing a bit of drama. Sam and Steve went to visit Sarah and explain and Bucky? Bucky just stared at a wall. Which means that he didn’t do anything he was supposed to do during the day. Which means he stayed up all night. He sat in bed, reading over all the evidence the prosecution has on Steve.

Now he wishes he’d just ignored it. He’s pretty sure there’s glue on the inside of his eyelids. He just wants to keep them shut. He’s at the table, slumped over with his head on it. Steve’s cooking them eggs and bacon. Bucky can smell the brewing coffee.

“You never slept,” Steve says, “did you?”

Bucky’s answer is a yawn.

Steve sits at the table, shaking his head. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

“I ain’t a kid, Steve.”

“I know that.” Steve pushes a mug of steaming coffee Bucky’s way. “But you still have to take care of yourself. Eat right, sleep. When’s the last time you worked out?”

Bucky shifted his shoulders. “Too long.”

“Work out. Take some time. We’ve got this whole discovery period right? There’s time.”

“There isn’t any time, Steve.” Bucky feels like he’s betraying Steve in a way, with all the honest truth. The gravity of the situation isn’t easy to ignore. It’s better if Bucky’s frank about everything at this point, especially with Steve. _Especially_ , with Steve. “Peter’s risking his life. I’m risking my life. You’re gonna—well, if we don’t—shit.” Easier said than done.

“What?” Steve takes his hand. “Tell me, please.”

Bucky cups Steve’s face, smiling sadly. “I don’t want to.”

Steve clenches his jaw. The flinch in his face, the way his shoulders tense, it’s all there ready to burst. He wants to argue. There’s a fire inside Steve, a fire that no one can put out and Bucky _loves_ that, but right now, Bucky would rather ignore the flames and wrap himself in the silky purity of Steve’s heart. He doesn’t want to set that on fire too. Telling Steve Rogers that he’ll die if he’s convicted is kind of like being asked to eat his entire leg. He thinks, under the circumstance, that if survival asked it of him, he’d do it. But in practice? Bucky’s not sure he could.

“You need a break.” Steve grabs Bucky’s hand, tracing the veins. “Let me—let me do something for you. I’m supposed to care for you just as much as you are for me. That’s how this works.”

Bucky shrugs. “I’m not supposed to let you see me break.”

“Color.”

Bucky’s confused at first. Confused because the word is so foreign suddenly when spoken from Steve’s mouth. But colors are there for Doms too… Bucky has as much right to use safewords as a sub does. “What’re we doing?”

“I’m gonna take care of you, Sir. Help you relax because—because you relaxed makes me relaxed, and right now neither of us are relaxed.”

Bucky can’t argue with that. “Green, then.” Bucky swallows loudly. He wants to reach for the coffee but he doesn’t have the energy for it.

“Please eat a little, Sir. I’ll be right back.”

Steve leaves, but not without brushing his hand through Bucky’s hair. Bucky watches him retreat into the bedroom and close the doors. Bucky narrows his eyes, wondering. He sighs, turning back to the food. He really should eat, except that requires movement. Fuck…movement.

He manages to take three bites and finish a piece of bacon off when Steve returns. He’s naked, with a little blue bow wrapped around his neck. It brings out the flush in his chest, the dainty rose dusting on his cheeks. Bucky drops his fork, staring.

“Kitten!”

Steve smiles, twirling around for show. “Sam stopped at the fabric store for me. I know you want me to have a collar, but—since I can’t buy my own, I thought, why not a bow?”

“Oh!” Bucky feels like crying, Steve’s so beautiful like this. “That was such a good idea.”

Steve bites his lip, ducking his chin. He slinks over into Bucky’s lap, straddling him. “You want any more food?”

“No.” Bucky grabs Steve’s hips. “I’d rather nibble on you.” He bites Steve’s clavicle for emphasis.

Steve giggles, an airy little sound that makes Bucky want to pull him closer and fuse them together, let their souls dance freely forever. He’s so _gone_ for this man.

“Sir,” Steve licks at the shell of Bucky’s ear, “if we don’t hurry, it’ll spill over.”

“What will?”

Steve pulls back, smirking. “I said I’d take care of you.”

Bucky gasps, smiling. “You drew me a bath!”

Steve nods. “That okay?” He wiggles atop Bucky’s lap, letting his flaccid cock trail along Bucky’s sleepshirt. Bucky looks down at it. He wants nothing more than to tease that little thing until it’s purple, but he likes how happy Steve seems right now, and truth be told, the idea of Steve letting him relax in a bathtub does sound rather nice… He aches so badly from sitting rigid all night over a thick file.

Steve stands up, then instantly goes to his knees, he sits back on his ankles, looking up at Bucky.

“Pet play?” Bucky asks.

Steve shakes his head. “Not—exactly.”

“What’re my rules, Steve.”

“We talk everything out first.” The begrudging way Steve answers almost makes Bucky want to forgo the rule and let Steve surprise him, but the rules are there to protect _both_ of them.

“So, you’re drawing me a bath, that I know, You’re naked and pretty with a little bow, what else?”

Steve bites his lip, looking down. His lashes cast shadows along his cheeks and Bucky wants to kiss them, but he stays in his spot. “I was just gonna help wash you, and lie on the tile? While you relaxed? Just, lie there.”

“You don’t wanna join me?”

Steve smiles. “Of course I do, but that’s not my place right now. I—I need to serve you.”

“I can respect that.” Bucky nods. “Can I play with you?”

Steve looks up, quizzical.

“I’ve got a remote plug or a ring. We could play with that? It’d be nice to hear you moaning. Better than music.” He smiles. Wolves would be envious of that sinister grin.

Steve nods. “Absolutely.”

“Then let’s go before the water spills over and I have to punish you for being irresponsible.” He stands up, petting Steve affectionately before walking.

Steve stays on the floor, crawling into the bedroom and then the bathroom. Bucky watches the way the dimples in his back move as he stretches out, like the big cat that he is. Bucky wants to suck at those dimples, place cherry bright spots there that scream at anyone who gets close enough _mine_.

Bucky snags the remote controlled plug and the lube before going into the bathroom. Steve reaches over the tub and turns off the water. It’s _almost_ overflowed, but not quite. He’s lucky, Bucky would’ve loved spanking him as a little punishment.

Bucky ignores Steve, setting the plug down and the lube while he strips. He really does act like Steve’s just a cat in the room. Steve’s patient enough, just sitting back on his ankles again, watching eagerly.

Bucky turns around, watching the way Steve’s eyes hone in on his cock. “You want this, Kitten?”

Steve licks his lips.

Bucky steps closer, grabbing Steve’s hair. “You said you want to serve me, so serve me.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. He sucks Bucky’s flaccid cock into his mouth, sucking softly until it hardens, stretching out his mouth. He moans, rocking back and forth on his knees.

Bucky watches, stroking his fingers through Steve’s blond hair, breath becoming sharp. Steve’s tongue is gifted when it comes to knowing where to flick or tickle. And those lips? The way they swell and glisten. Bucky moans, fantasizing about Steve’s mouth when he _has_ Steve’s mouth has to be some kind of miracle. Steve’s _gifted_ after all.

Steve looks up with round, eager eyes. It’s communication in its purest form, the soul conversing with the soul. Bucky nods, stroking a finger over his baby’s cheek. “You’re doin’ so good.”

Steve sucks a little harder, a delighted shiver along his spine. He grabs Bucky’s hips, pulling more of Bucky’s length into his mouth. He lets it slide in and out of his mouth, using his tongue to keep it balanced when he lets his lips close over it before swallowing again.

Bucky can’t hold back when Steve’s this good at head. He rocks into Steve’s mouth, hastening the pace, and Steve doesn’t miss a beat. He hollows out his cheeks, looking up at Bucky again, eyes begging for Bucky to come…

“Oh shit, Kitten, how’d you get so good at this, huh? How am I so lucky?”

Steve whines around Bucky’s cock. He opens his mouth more, pushing forward and Bucky almost doubles over. He feels the back of Steve’s throat press against his dick, throat muscles working around him. Steve gags softly, but he doesn’t pull back.

God, Bucky wants to thrust so hard. He’s going to explode…he’s so damn close.

Steve finally pulls back, bobbing his head, letting his tongue tantalize Bucky’s sensitive skin and tease at the underside of his cockhead.

“Mmm.” Bucky lets his head roll back. “You’re so perfect, Steve. So damn perfect.” He gasps when Steve swirls his tongue around Bucky’s tip. “H-hey, don’t tease me.”

Steve just mewls around Bucky in his mouth, but he goes back to sucking proper again.

“Lemme fuck into your mouth, Kitten. Okay?”

Steve nods a little, sitting back and relaxing his throat. Bucky thrusts into his baby boy, working up his orgasm until he’s pulling back. “Let go, let go!”

Steve does.

Bucky steps forward, coming on Steve’s face. Steve closes his eyes, his tongue flicking out to scoop some of the seed into his mouth. His own cock is red and erect, but Bucky’s not here for that. _Steve’s_ not here for that. And damn, if it doesn’t feel good to just release on a pretty man’s face and know that he _belongs_ to Bucky. It sends shivers up and down Bucky’s spine. His knees start trembling, come still pulsing from his dick. He slows his hand when the heat in his body cools. Breathing hard, he grabs the edge of the tub and then allows himself to fall in. He spills water, but he can always clean it later.

“You can clean it off,” he says. “With your fingers and mouth only.” He flashes a smirk Steve’s way. There’s shock on Steve’s face, shock that slowly turns to amusement. He scoops some of the come onto a finger and slowly sucks it into his mouth. “Mmm, ain’t that a pretty sight, huh? You’re so pretty, did you know that? How pretty you are?”

Steve shakes his head, his cheeks blushing. He continues to collect come and lick his fingers clean.

“Well you are. So damn pretty.” Bucky stretches in the tub, allowing his muscles to just _be_ for once. He melts into the warm water, like wax warming by a flame. “You missed a spot.” He reaches out of the tub, shivering as the cool air nips at his skin. Steve leans into his hand, allowing him to take some of the seed off his face. He brings it to Steve’s lips, smearing it there. “Lick.”

Steve does.

“Good boy.” He leans forward, groaning. “Wash my back? You can talk—you know.”

Steve chuckles. “I kind of like not talkin’.”

“Watch it, or I’ll put a gag in your mouth.”

Steve freezes, his eyes rounding. “Would you?”

“You want that?” Bucky cocks a brow.

Steve nods.

“Okay, then yeah. We can do gags sometime.”

Steve moves closer, grabbing the loofah and soaping it up. “When do you wanna put that plug in me?”

Bucky snorts. “Impatient.”

“Excited.” Steve starts scrubbing Bucky’s shoulders. “You look more relaxed already.”

“Yeah, well, a good orgasm will do that.” He leans into Steve’s ministrations, shivering. “But this also feels really good. I’m actually not used to—oh scratch right there—not used to gettin’ taken care of.”

“You the type that rubs everyone else’s back but never gets a turn?” Steve starts scrubbing the other shoulder and moves up to the neck. He uses his fingers to knead into the soapy skin, soothing away the lingering scratching sensation from the loofah.

“Yeah.”

“Well, not anymore.” Steve scoops water up and starts letting it cascade, over and over, down Bucky’s shoulders. “I’m gonna care for you too, Buck.”

“That sounds great, Kitten.” He reaches up, the angle’s awkward because Steve’s behind him, but he manages to find Steve’s face and run his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Keep givin’ me baths like this.”

Steve laughs. “Yessir.”

Bucky slinks down into the tub, leaving nothing but his feet and head above. “Foot massage? I’ll put the plug in if you do a good job.”

“Yes, Sir.” Steve walks on his knees over to the other side of the tub and begins massaging Bucky’s feet.

“Oh my _God_ , yes.” Bucky falls more into the water. His ears clog with water, but he doesn’t move. Steve’s hands are perfection, rubbing little circles into his feet. Everything’s muffled from the water over his ears, but he’s pretty sure he can hear Steve humming. He blinks slow, watching his baby boy work deft fingers into the meat of his heel. Bucky could do this every day, except then he’d get nothing done…

He moves to sit up more, accidently yanking his foot away, but Steve grabs it again to continue massaging. “So service kink, huh?”

Steve laughs. “Call it my mother hen side.” He leans forward, sucking one of Bucky’s toes into his mouth.

Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes. “At least it’s clean. I do _not_ have a foot fetish.”

Steve lets go, smiling. “Yeah, me neither. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“Punk.” Bucky flicks water at Steve. “Come in here.”

“You’ve got another foot! And I’m supposed to lay on the floor.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Are you disobeying me, Kitten?” He clicks his tongue as Steve’s eyes go wide, shock and panic snapping his spine to attention. “And here I thought I had such a good boy. You really want to disappoint me?”

“No!” Steve sloshes into the tub, accidently getting water up Bucky’s nose. “I’m sorry! Please, Sir, I’m sorry!” He curls into Bucky’s arms, shivering and whimpering out the most delicate of little sounds. Bucky gasps, holding him close.

“Shh, baby boy it’s okay. You just want me happy.” He kisses Steve’s head. “I know.”

Steve nods, whimpering still. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be, Kitten.” He traces his fingers along the blue ribbon. It’s darker now, wet. It’s still beautiful against Steve’s flushed red skin. “I’ll get you a blue collar, one with a little bell on it.”

Steve smiles, eyes shining with unshed tears. Sometimes Bucky forgets just how…deep subs fall, not in love, but the trust, the utter devotion. Steve’s not in love—Bucky is—but Steve’s still utterly devoted to his Dom. The mere fact that Bucky can nearly reduce Steve to a bawling mess with just one dismissive sentence is—well it’s a power Bucky doesn’t like abusing. He’s had to punish subs in the past for bad behavior—it’s all part of the dynamic—but it’s never been something he enjoys. The cold shoulder is the worst thing to do when a sub is bawling for their Dom. Bucky’s _never_ liked ignoring his sub.

Bucky kisses Steve’s ear. He laps at it, sucking the lobe into his mouth. “Mm, so sweet, baby boy. How’re you so perfect?” He doesn’t want to see any more traces of fear in Steve’s baby blue eyes. He’ll sooth it all away with gentle compliments, like a soothing balm on wounded skin.

Steve shrugs, smiling. Blush creeps from his neck down his chest and over his shoulders. It dusts up his face and the blue of his eyes pop even more.

“So sweet.” Bucky pulls up one of Steve’s palms, biting gently at the meat of it before kissing each finger. “Just wanna eat you all up.”

Steve laughs. “You’re too nice to me.”

“You deserve it.” Bucky drops Steve’s hand to his chest, letting Steve feel his heart beating. “You make this flutter.”

Steve averts his gaze, nibbling his bottom lip. “I still can’t get over this.”

“Over what?” Panic clutches Bucky’s heart, filling it with cement.

“You n’ me. I mean—how did this even happen?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I just mean—I wasn’t—nevermind. Don’t worry about my dumbass.”

Steve watches Bucky for a hard moment, his brow twitching like it’s deciding whether to be surprised or suspicious. Bucky just goes back to kissing Steve’s body, starting at the neck and then to nibble the shoulder.

“This was supposed to be about you,” Steve whispers. He’s rubbing Bucky’s back, soft little circles that tickle more than it feels good, but Bucky doesn’t want him to stop.

“This is about me. Kissing you is one of my favorite things.”

Steve laughs. “At least let me wash your hair, Sir.”

“Nnn, fine. But I want that plug up your ass now.”

Steve nods, kissing Bucky quickly on the lips. “Lemme get it.” He hops out of the tub, water cascading down him to puddle on the white tiled floor. Bucky narrows his eyes, hoping he doesn’t slip and crack his head on that later. That’d be awkward.

Steve carefully gets back into the tub, but he stands, turning around. “Here.”

Bucky takes both lube and plug. He helps Steve spread his legs, reaching up to squeeze at the muscle in Steve’s ass. He’s got such a gorgeous ass. Bucky can’t draw. He wishes he could. He’d draw nothing but this ass.

He coats two fingers, slipping them between Steve’s cheeks and circling at his rim.

Steve gasps in surprise, body tensing.

“Relax, baby,” Bucky says. “Just gonna work you open a bit.”

Steve nods, whimpering. “Feels good. Just startled me.”

“Probably should’ve said something.” Bucky slips his fingers inside, circling them around Steve’s hole. He pumps them slowly, in and out. He’s mesmerized by the shine as lubricant oozes along the lines of his fingers. He likes the soft sounds Steve’s body makes as he stretches his boy. He _adores_ the quiet sighs of contentment Steve makes.

Steve starts to gently thrust back on Bucky’s hand, humming.

“Don’t touch your cock, baby,” Bucky says, seeing Steve consider whether to grab it or not. He smirks when Steve lets out a more pointed whine. “That’s my cock, and I want it for later.”

“Yes, Sir.” Steve sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh fuck…Sir that’s good.”

Bucky’s angled just right, deep enough that he’s slipping his fingers over Steve’s prostate. He’s not moving fast enough to get his baby to come, but it’s enough stimulation to notice Steve’s balls swelling red.

“You’re beautiful.”

“Nng,” is all he gets as a response. Steve grabs the lip of the tub, shaking. “Please…Sir…please…”

“Words, baby. What do you want?”

“Pl-plug. I want the—oh fuck—the plug!”

Bucky smiles, pulling his fingers out. He lubes up the plug, circling it around Steve’s rim before slowly pushing it in. There’s little resistance, but he still gives it a few thrusts before allowing it to bottom out inside Steve. The last thing he wants is to tear his boy’s precious skin. That’s not this kind of scene—at least for now. Bucky hasn’t given anyone anything hard in awhile. He’s starting to miss the suspension or the fucking machines. He likes watching subs writhing in extreme ecstasy, overstimulated and sobbing. But he likes this too, the gentle ministrations of flirtatious play.

“You can sit down now.” Bucky scoots back, allowing for a little more room in the tub.

Steve sits down, a bit stiffly. It’s rather amusing to watch. He leans back into Bucky, resting his head right under Bucky’s chin. “I like being full.”

“Good, I like filling you.”

Steve laughs, it’s a soft—inconsequential sound. But it warms Bucky’s heart, flushing his body with delightful sensations. He’s positively vibrating with happiness.

“I’m starting to prune.”

Steve shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not.”

“You got in like ten minutes ago!” He flicks Steve’s nose, kissing his head.

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“You’ve nothing to apologize for, Steve.”

Steve shrugs again. “Do you want me to massage your other foot now?”

“Sure.”

They move, Steve going to the opposite side of the tub so Bucky can rest his foot against Steve’s chest. Steve massages at the toes and works his way down to the heel. When he squeezes Bucky’s heel, Bucky moans. It’s been so long since someone cared for him, even something as small as a foot rub. Bucky’s so used to doing things for himself. He hates the idea of putting responsibility on a sub—but Steve’s not like his past relationships, or even Clint. Clint’s always here for himself, and Bucky provides himself for Clint’s needs. Most subs Bucky’s been with are fragile and depend on someone to function. Steve doesn’t _need_ Bucky, but he _wants_ him. It’s a difference that Bucky admires. He’s here because he chose Bucky, and that makes it all the more meaningful.

“This good?” Steve asks after awhile.

Bucky answers by turning on the plug. He closes his eyes, listening to Steve’s sharp gasp of surprise. He likes the way Steve’s breathing is now short and uneven. Steve keeps thrusting up into the water too, sloshing it around. Bucky turns up the intensity just to hear him moan.

And _God_ does he moan. He starts kissing Bucky’s ankle, mewling against it, breathing hard. He’s still thrusting into the water, but he hasn’t stopped massaging Bucky’s foot.

Bucky loves this. He settles back into the water, keeping his eyes closed as if his little torture on Steve isn’t even happening.

“Bu—oh— _oh_ …” Steve’s panting louder, his hips moving quicker beneath the water. Bucky just flicks the next setting. “Oh _fuck_ me!”

Bucky can’t help it but laugh. He opens his eyes, soaking up not just the water now. Steve’s mouth is dropped open, his pink tongue flicking at the corners of swollen red lips. He’s thrusting fast under the water, sending a bit of it over the tub. He’s trembling now and has to keep picking Bucky’s foot back up from where it slides down to the top of his rib cage. He’s not doing the best job at massaging anymore, but Bucky can’t fault him for that.

“You think you can come from that?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t.”

“Oh Jesus,” Steve cries. “Oh f-f-fuck.”

“I’m thinking we should put you in another cage, Don’t need a sound though. I’ve got other ones.”

Steve moans loud, dropping his head back.

“I’ll probably keep that plug in though. I forgot how much fun it is.”

“You’re—fuck me—oh Jesus, fuck!”

“You better not come in the bath. You’ll get me all dirty.”

Tears are sliding from Steve’s eyes. He nods, letting out a shaky breath. He drops Bucky’s foot, whining when he realizes what he’s done.

“S-sorry, I’m sorry.”

Bucky tilts his head to the side. He’s not sure if he should punish Steve or not, a good kind, not a bad kind. He’s never spanked Steve yet. He’d like to see that ass all red.

“Steve,” Bucky says curtly.

Steve looks up, mouth still hanging open as he breathes heavily.

“You dropped my foot.”

“I know—I—h-h-holy…” He squeezes his eyes closed. “Holy fuck! I know. I—I can’t—I can’t hold—”

“Don’t come, Steve.” Bucky sits up. He wants Steve to come. He wants to have a reason to lay Steve over his lap and swat that pretty ass. “Don’t you dare.”

“Stop…I can’t…stop!”

“I need a color, Steve.”

“G-green—oh fuck—oh no no no!”

“Then don’t come, Steve. You can stop it.”

Steve shakes his head, whimpering. “Bu—Sir, Sir I can’t—I’m gonna—oh fuck!” He curls inward, mewling out a long, pitchy vibrato. Bucky looks down, watching semen mix into clear water. He clenches his teeth, trying his best to look disappointed when he’s thrilled. Steve fought so hard… Poor boy.

“I’m sorry,” Steve cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Bucky gets out of the tub, grabbing a towel to dry off. “You have three minutes to get into the bedroom and beg me for forgiveness.” He leaves the bathroom, but first remembers to switch off the plug. “And leave that plug in!”

He’s exhilarated. It’s a cheat, really. Steve’s so upset with himself, and Bucky purposely led him down that path, but Steve said green. He knew _exactly_ what Bucky was doing. Anyone who knows anything about edging knows you’re supposed to slow down to keep an orgasm away. Bucky purposefully kept the speed up so Steve would come. Steve wants this just as much as Bucky does. But just to be sure, Bucky’ll check before he keeps playing this game. It’s always important to check in.

He pulls on his briefs and then slips into some sweats. He sits on the bed, watching the bathroom door. Steve comes out, naked and his face completely ashamed. He crawls over to Bucky, dropping his head into Bucky’s lap. Bucky threads his fingers into Steve’s hair and caresses his baby’s face.

“You tried so hard, didn’t you?”

Steve sniffles. “Yes, Sir.”

“But you still came.”

Steve takes longer to answer. “Yes…”

“I’ll have to spank you, you know that?”

Steve nods.

“And that’s okay?”

Steve nods again. Good, Bucky knew Steve knew what was happening. Steve could’ve used a safe word or asked for yellow. He hadn’t. This was all part of the game.

Bucky forgoes asking Steve to beg for forgiveness. It’s too much on the side of negative punishment. This is meant to be more positive, with a faux air of negativity. Steve’s probably not actually upset. He’s probably excited. Bucky can see it in the way he’s swaying his hips a bit.

“You know how to assume the position, right?”

Steve nods.

“So do it.”

Steve moves to bend over Bucky’s knees. His ass is up, exposed to the cool air in the room. Bucky needs to turn the damn heat up. His pretty balls are still swollen and red from before, his cock flaccid but still flushed from orgasm. Bucky doesn’t want it hidden, but when Steve gets settled, it’s pressed up against Bucky’s leg instead.

Bucky brings a finger between Steve’s cheeks, pushing at the plug. Steve hisses, rocking back. “Coming on level three, huh? How’re we ever going to get you up to level five?” He brings his fingers down along Steve’s perineum, using circling motions against it.

Steve whines, pressing his face into the bed.

“Three swats for level three, okay?”

Steve nods into the bed.

Bucky doesn’t hit hard the first time. More just to sting and watch Steve’s cheeks go red. He’s not looking to really hurt Steve. It’s meant to be enjoyable. Steve moans into the bedsheet, rocking his hardening cock against Bucky’s leg. “You better not come again. I have to take a shower to get clean from your mess.”

Steve whimpers like a dejected puppy. It’s almost enough to make Bucky stop and pull him into his arms. This is all a game to both of them.

Bucky cracks his hand down against Steve’s ass, watching in amazement as red takes form in the shape of his hand. Steve tenses, crying out over him. He presses his face harder into the foot of the bed, shivering.

“That hurt baby?”

Steve shakes his head no.

Bucky smiles. “Of course not. You’re strong, ain’t ya? So strong and good, right?”

Steve nods.

“One more, think you can take it?” Bucky circles his fingers over Steve’s heated skin, soothing the angry welt.

Steve nods again, sobbing into the bed.

“You’re forgiven, I promise you.” He slaps his hand down again, hurriedly soothing the skin and slipping off the bed, bringing Steve with him. Steve curls into his arms, sobbing. “Shhh, it’s over baby, it’s okay. You did so good.” He kisses Steve’s cheek. “So, so good baby. You’re so strong.”

Steve presses his face into Bucky’s neck, sniffing again. He’s clutching Bucky with all his might. His fingers are practically peeling off Bucky’s skin, but Bucky grits through it. “I liked it.”

“Hmm?”

“I liked it, gettin’ spanked.”

Bucky smiles, kissing Steve again. “I know you did. S’why I didn’t stop. Plus ya know, you didn’t safe word.”

Steve laughs softly. “It calmed me down.”

“You weren’t calm before?”

Steve shakes his head. “You’ve been on edge. It started to get to me.”

“Oh.” Bucky’s eyes drown with sympathy. “Oh Kitten, I’m so sorry.”

Steve nuzzles into Bucky’s chest. “S’okay. You made it better.”

“Do you need anything else? I can put aloe on your ass. You probably need that.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’m fine. Really. I didn’t go into subspace or nothin’. I just needed to relax—like you.”

Bucky nods, clenching his jaw. “You sure?”

Steve smiles, brilliant and ethereal. His whole body glows. It’s like he’s got Christmas lights for veins. “Just snuggle with me?” Steve starts to unwind from Bucky’s body, standing.

Bucky scampers up behind him, pushing Steve onto the bed. “All night.”

“And…put your cock in me? I’m all stretched out anyway.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “You little scamp.” Bucky watches Steve spread his legs wide, showing the base of the plug.

“Don’t gotta come, just wanna feel you in me.”

“Yeah okay.” Bucky crawls onto the bed, gently pulling the plug from Steve’s stretched hole. “But if I start fucking into you, it’s your fault.”

“Mmm, yes, Sir.”

Slipping inside Steve is magical, it makes Bucky’s heart slow down, his mind quiet. It’s its own protective shell against the world and Bucky would do anything to keep this feeling, protect both him and Steve in the way he feels right now, slipped up tight against the curve of Steve’s ass, lazily stroking his baby’s cock. He doesn’t want to come, he’s pretty sure Steve doesn’t really need to or want to either. But he likes this, the unhurried, lazy serene ending to what was supposed to be them just enjoying a long bath.

Oh well, Bucky doesn’t regret any of it.

* * *

“You want to contact Tony Stark?” Matt asks, flabbergasted. Foggy drops his gyro, the onions all spill out and the cucumber sauce flies onto his tie.

Bucky shrugs. “Uh—is it really that bad of an idea?”

Foggy looks to Matt. Matt’s face is almost unreadable behind his red-tinted sunglasses. He’s got that tiny little smirk though that says he doesn’t think Bucky’s _that_ crazy.

“Look Buck,” Foggy says, “you’ve got yourself into some deep shit here. Like— _deep_ —shit. You’re probably getting me and Matt in deep shit too by even tellin’ us this.”

Bucky nods. “I know. I’m not askin’ you two to join the case. I just need some support—of some kind. I dunno.”

“I’ll help you,” Matt says. “I want to join this case.”

“What?!” Foggy jumps out of his seat. “Hold on there! Do you have a death wish?!”

Matt just smiles more. Bucky watches in bewilderment. They bicker like a married couple. If he suddenly found out they’d been having some kind of secret love affair all these years, Bucky wouldn’t be the _least_ bit surprised.

“Jesus Christ.” Foggy plops back down onto his chair, defeated. “I’ll start writing our wills.”

“So you’ll help me get a meeting with Tony?”

“What’re ya gonna say?” Foggy asks. “You can’t just waltz in there and tell him Norman Osborn wants to kill your client.”

Bucky nods. “I know. It’ll be difficult. But we have to tell him the truth. If he _knows_ , he can protect Steve—and us.”

“But if he knows, then that’s just one more person on Oscorp’s list to take out. All it takes is a single bullet,” Matt says. “We can’t let Oscorp know we’re going there to cut some kind of deal about Steve.”

“What about civil work? Property dispute or something?” Bucky asks. He looks down at his plate of fries. He hasn’t touched them since they sat down. He’s been too eager for this meeting. Finally telling someone in his field felt good. Instead of just freaking out (well Foggy freaked out), they started to analyze how to fix the situation, like any good attorneys. Sam’s back at the apartment watching Steve (Bucky hates that he basically has to call Sam for babysitting duty, but Sam never minds seeing his best friend). Peter’s safe, he posts on social media more just to let Bucky know he’s alive. So far it looks like Oscorp doesn’t know.

But they will, and so Bucky _needs_ to be prepared. He can’t protect Steve from a giant corporation with bought cops and politicians. He has to fight fire with water, and Tony Stark is just that—a bottomless ocean full of protection. Bucky just hopes they can all keep swimming…

“We could go in under a contract dispute, say a third party has a bone to pick about a patent?” Matt suggests. He takes a sip of his drink.

“That could work.”

Foggy looks like he’s going to be sick. Bucky can’t help but smile at him. Foggy’s response is a glare. Okay, Bucky earned that.

“Okay, so, we contact Stark’s people about a contract dispute, but that doesn’t guarantee we meet with Mr. Stark himself,” Matt says.

“You’re right.” Bucky tugs on his hair, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Fuck this shit.”

“Unless we dig up one of Stark’s biggest contractors and scare the pants off ‘im.” Foggy tries to stifle a laugh. He thinks he made a joke, but Matt and Bucky both stare at him like he just solved world hunger. “What?”

“That’s a great idea?” Bucky claps Foggy on the shoulder. “Okay, I need to file for an extension on discovery. If this case starts moving too far, we’re gonna lose it.”

“So,” Matt leans forward, “what’s your goal, Buck?”

“Acquittal.”

Matt nods. “Because he didn’t do it?”

“Correct.” Bucky crosses his arms. “I know it’s—as it is right now, it’s not in our favor. But Steve _genuinely_ didn’t do it. If we can get Parker to the stand, we’ve got a key witness.”

“But you can’t do that,” Foggy says, sitting up, “not without exposing Parker as a witness to the prosecution. Once he’s exposed, he’s a target again.”

“Which is why we need Stark to protect him. I don’t trust the police to do it, so it’s gotta be Stark. Him and Steve need protection.”

Matt takes his glasses off. It’s a strange gesture, considering he’s going to clean them, but Bucky knows he can’t see, so what’s the purpose? “And what about you, Bucky?”

Bucky bites his lip. “I won’t go down without a fight.”

“You need protection too.”

“I know. I’ll have it.”

Foggy doesn’t look convinced. Matt sighs heavily, which probably means he’s not buying it either.

“We need you alive, Bucky. Don’t be a hero.” Foggy takes a bite of his gyro. He swallows it loudly before speaking again. “If Stark protects Steve, he’s gotta protect you too.”

“I’m not _wanting_ to be a target here. Trust me. But there’s gonna be a lot more chances for me to get killed than Steve. Steve’s safe as long as he’s not in prison. I’m gonna be going to court hearings and premotions for allowing certain evidence in. And we can’t show off Stark helping, or Oscorp will just turn their eye on him.”

“Can you do phone call evidentiary hearings?”

“If Judge Jameson is bought, then he’ll probably force me in. But I can try.”

“He may not be bought,” Matt says. “Judges are a little harder to buy out. I mean, it happens but, judges are pricks.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, all that honor.”

“Okay, so game plan, research big contract deals with Stark Industries, get Tony’s attention, and—come clean?” Matt asks.

Bucky nods. He looks over at a table of gentlemen, both in snazzy suits. He looks down at his own suit, it’s nothing fancy today. He usually saves his best for court. At least Matt and Foggy aren’t wearing Gucci or anything.

“Team Holy Shit I Can’t Believe We’re Doing This is a go.” Foggy finishes his gyro.

Bucky stands up. He looks down at his fries, shrugging. Oh well, he was never going to eat them anyway. “I’ll see if I can get the hearing pushed back another month.”

“It’ll be doubtful,” Matt says. “So we’ll work fast. I’ll call you tonight.”

Bucky nods. They all stand, shaking hands and saying their goodbyes. Bucky tugs his jacket on, making his way outside. It’s cold. The leaves have long since fallen from the trees. Winter clutches the city like death clutches life, lingering and omnipresent. The crisp air smells nice at least, like snow. Bucky ignores most of everyone. He looks to his phone, reading over the texts he’d pointedly ignored from Clint a few days ago. Clint’s desperate…

Bucky sighs, feeling bad. He can’t tell Clint why he _can’t_ see him, but not telling him also raises questions. And Steve does live with Bucky. Clint isn’t the smartest, but he’s not the dumbest either. Or maybe that’s wrong. Bucky furrows his brow. Maybe Clint _is_ the smartest, but he acts dumb?

Bucky’s turning a corner when he notices the two men in the fancy suits are behind him just a ways. He looks back to his phone, thinking of something to say to Clint. He’s almost to the subway station. He assumes the guys behind him are just doing the same thing.

He can’t tell Clint the truth, that’s too many people. Sam and Nat already know, Foggy and Matt know about the legal conspiracy shit. Clint can’t know anything. The more people who know, the more Oscorp has a chance at really hurting someone. Bucky can’t let that happen. This is as much for his protection as it is for Clint.

Bucky rounds the corner into the subway, making his way down the long stairs and the escalators. He uses his pass to enter into the tunnels to make his way home. He’s standing at one of the platforms when he notices the men in the suits again.

And that’s when he starts to worry. He looks at his phone, finding Peter Parker’s social media page, and then he looks back up and curses to himself. Of course. _Of course!_ Oscorp has its greasy paws in everything. Of course they have access to public wifi monitoring or a ping alert when people see Parker’s social media. Bucky’s been checking it almost daily.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The train arrives and the doors hiss open. People shuffle off and on. Bucky gets on, and then promptly hops back off as the doors start closing. He runs.

He doesn’t look back to see if the men got off the train or not. But he just fucking runs. Panic is laced into his veins, shooting right into his heart. Pain surges in him every time his heart beats but he can’t stop running. He bumps into about five people before he finally turns around in a more open area and looks around to see if the men are still following him. When he doesn’t see them, he backtracks back to the platform and hides close to a big family group.

He can’t call for help. He can’t text Steve or Sam about this. They’re being watched. Everyone is being watched. And Oscorp knows…

Bucky whimpers. He’s so fucked.

The next train comes in and after he does the best at checking if he’s safe or not, he finally hops on and prepares for the ride home. Fuck. Clint is the least of his worries.

Oscorp fucking _knows_.

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Aunt May…”

* * *

When Bucky gets home, he’s shoving the door open, panic practically keeping his eyes peeled wide. He finds Sam and Steve on the sofa, both with video game controllers in their hands. There’s bags of chips thrown about the coffee table, beer bottle after beer bottle. Steve’s face is a little red from the alcohol, but there’s nothing for Bucky to think he’s piss-ass drunk.

They both look over at Bucky in perfect synchronization. The relief that floods Bucky is practically a tidal wave. He slumps against the door, breathing out. “Oh fuck.”

“Oh fuck?” Steve asks.

“I think I fucked up.” Bucky slips his shoes off, walking further into the living room from the little hall. “I’ve been kind of keeping tabs on Peter Parker, just to make sure he’s okay. Today there were these guys who followed me from King’s Gyros all the way to the subway. I think I ditched them, but—I dunno.”

Sam’s mouth drops open.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m just being paranoid or if they were actually following me. I mean, I didn’t see them after I got off the train. It’s entirely possible they weren’t even following me.”

“Okay, we gotta move Sarah.” Sam stands up, pulling out his phone. “Steve, we gotta go.”

“But—”

“Steve! C’mon!” Sam jerks Steve up off the couch. He goes over to their shoes in the hall and throws Steve’s at him.

Steve looks at the shoes, and then to Bucky. “You really think they know?”

Bucky shrugs. “We can’t risk it.”

“This could all go away if I just—if I just died.”

Sam and Bucky both whirl around to stare in horror at Steve.

“Excuse me?” Sam says.

“I mean, Oscorp could pin this whole thing on me, it’d all be buried and no one would have to get hurt. Parker’s being threatened, my mom’s at stake and she doesn’t even know it. It’d just—I mean I won’t do it, but—it’d just be easier.” He looks to his feet, squeezing his toes in. “Sometimes I think about it, s’all.”

Bucky crosses the room, grabbing Steve by the shoulders and squeezing. “Don’t you dare think you’re not worth fighting for.” When Steve doesn’t look up, Bucky gives him a little shake. “Hey, look at me. _Look_ at me, Kitten.”

Steve finally does. His lips part silently, pupils dilating.

“You matter. _You_ are worth fighting for. And I,” Bucky looks over at Sam, afraid, before looking back to Steve, “and I love you.”

Steve swallows, nodding. “I know.”

They aren’t the words Bucky wants to hear. They’re painful. They sink against his skin, pressing in like needles and lodge in his heart. He sucks in a shaky breath. He pulls Steve into a hug. “I won’t let them hurt you. I swear. No one’s gonna die. No one.”

Steve finally hugs back. It’s hesitant, barely there, but his arms are around Bucky’s middle. His chin is pressed to Bucky’s shoulder. It’s enough. It has to be. Bucky can’t break down now. He can’t let his selfishness swallow up this moment. Steve’s mother is in trouble; Peter is in trouble. Bucky can’t focus on how badly he wants Steve to fall in love with him.

He has to be an attorney first, a boyfriend later.

“Okay.” Bucky pulls back, nodding. “Call Sarah, we’re gonna head there now.”

“All of us?” Sam asks. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“I’m not goin’ with you two. I’m gonna head to the courthouse and file a motion for extension. I’m also gonna talk to the press and try to make them think we’re drowning under the prosecution’s evidence. I’ve gotta make you look a little guilty and me like a sleezeball. Is that okay, Steve?”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever you need to do. I just don’t want anyone hurt.”

Bucky nods. “No one’s gonna get hurt, Kitten. I promise.”

Sam grabs Steve’s arm. “C’mon. We’ve gotta move.”

Steve follows Sam, but he stops to give a quick kiss to Bucky’s cheek. “Be safe.”

“You too.” Bucky swats Steve’s butt lightly, smiling.

“Jerk.”

“Get outta here,” Bucky says, laying on his New York accent as thick as he can. He watches the pair leave before he slumps into the sofa, wringing his hair. “Okay, one step at a time, Barnes.”

He needs to put on a nicer suit…

* * *

_“Today, Bucky Barnes, defense attorney for Steve Rogers spoke at a great length to reporters on a motion for extension. We’re left with wondering if he’s just postponing the inevitable. Rogers has already amended his plea to a completely not guilty sentence. Barnes, as always, was poised, charming and what we come to expect from our defense attorneys, white knights for the wrong side. The full story tonight at nine. I’m Sherleen Allicot, and this is ABC 7 Eyewitness News.”_

_-Shirleen Allicot, ABC 7 Eyewitness News, New York, New York (2015)._

Carol Danvers @CaptainCarolD – 4 min  
“American jurisprudence should hold steadfast to innocent until proven guilty, a kindness not afforded to Steve Rogers.” Why does this guy speak like he’s from another century? #RottenRogers

Mack Mackenzie @MackMackenziee – 2 min  
@CaptainCarolD maybe because you single-handedly keep the rotten rogers tag trending?? Crucify a man for saving someone from a group of rapists. Whatever. #RescueRogers

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 1 min  
TBH IDEC anymore. I’m so sick of seeing stuff on this guy now. If he was ugly then it wouldn’t even matter. Everyone’s in love with this asswhipe because he’s got baby blue eyes and muscles for days. Murder is murder guys. #RottenRogers

Mack Mackenzie @MackMackenziee – 32 sec  
@HailHyGrant so stop talking about him then? Go back to retweeting porn videos, jerk.

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 5 sec  
@MackMackenziee fuck off dude. No one asked you.

Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 2 sec  
@HailHyGrant @MackMackenziee omfg seriously Ward?? You’re an idiot. #RescueRogers

Bucky’s almost finished cooking dinner when Steve finally returns. He watchs Steve come into the apartment, toe off his shoes and slug over to Bucky. He stands before Bucky, eyes staring at the floor, shoulders slummed. He looks like shit. There’s a tiny little tear in his shirt. Bucky reaches out, touching it. “What’s this?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just keeps staring at the floor.

“Steve? Talk to me please.”

Steve doesn’t.

“Did someone attack you? We can press charges you know.” Bucky turns the burner off. The stirfry needs time to cool anyway. “Look at me.”

Steve just keeps staring at his toes.

Bucky manually pulls Steve by the chin, forcing their eyes to lock. Steve’s crying and there’s a little cut on his cheek. “What the fuck happened?”

“I took a detour.”

Bucky’s heart stops beating. He stares, replaying those small words over and over in his mind. Vivid pictures berate Bucky’s mind. Ominous bodies, shoving, kicking and spewing hateful words at Steve. Steve, the man that he is, takes it all.

“What. Happened?” Bucky’s growling, anger sizzling in his nerves. He’s trembling, ready to tear people apart and watch blood paint walls and streets red. He’ll burn the Goddamned world down for Steve Rogers. It’s frightening, the intensity Bucky feels for this man. He’s never experienced such utter devotion to someone. Steve is a treasure, a gem in a world full of coal. Bucky can’t let him fade away.

“After Sam and my ma left for the airport, I walked home. I needed—it’s been so long since I’ve been out just—just because.”

Bucky nods. He grimaces when he sees a tear roll from Steve’s eye.

“I was walking by a group of people who recognized me. They started yelling at me and one of the guys shoved me down. A woman backhanded me and then they left. I didn’t talk or nothin’. I just—I just felt like—I don’t even know.” Steve slumps back against the refrigerator. “Hitler was proud of himself for what he’d done. I didn’t—God—I didn’t even kill those boys and I feel like there’s dirt under my skin. I’m a monster. Kids are afraid of me, women cross the street when they see me coming. I got attacked. I’ll never have a normal life again.”

Bucky looks away. He’s had the same thoughts. Steve’s life is ruined, no matter the outcome of this trial. Maybe he could start over in another country, but how’s that fair? Steve’s an innocent man being punished for the wickedness of others. He shouldn’t have to uproot his whole life.

“I just wanted to get my degree and—I dunno—maybe teach high school kids? Now I’ll never—no one’s gonna hire me. I’m a murderer, no matter what. It doesn’t even matter if I did it. I’ve already been judged and I’m guilty.”

Bucky sighs. He’s mashing his teeth together and it’s giving him a headache. But words can’t sooth the pain Steve feels. Agony is stitched into each hair follicle on Steve’s body. Bucky can’t take that away.

“I know you’re supposed to tell me what’s best for me, but I—I need to be selfish right now, Sir.”

Bucky blinks, gaze snapping back to Steve.

“I know you wanna go slow, and I really adore that, but I can’t right now. I need—I need to cry. I need to—to focus on something other than how I feel.”

“Whaddya want, Kitten? Tell me and I’ll do it.” Bucky crowds Steve, caressing his perfect boy’s face. He brushes his thumb over the little cut on Steve’s cheek. Steve winces.

“I need you to tell me everything I already think I am. Humiliation, beat me, hurt me—I mean really hurt me.”

“Steve—”

“You don’t have to if you’re really uncomfortable with it, but I know what’s in your playroom. You’re good at this and I need it so _badly_.”

“Okay.”

Steve looks up, startled. “What?”

“I said okay.” Bucky kisses Steve’s nose. “I’m here to help you with what you need. You need it, so I’ll do it.”

“What’s your color though?”

Bucky smiles sadly. “Honestly? Yellow.”

Steve nods, pursing his lips. “We don’t hafta.”

Bucky pulls Steve from the kitchen. He shoves Steve into the living room, brow furrowed. “Get out of your fuckin’ clothes, slut.”

Steve stands there, round eyes and twitching fingers. He looks like a man in a country where no one speaks his language. Bucky doesn’t exactly _want_ this right now, but he understands why Steve _needs_ this. Bucky is a weapon, and Steve’s using him for a specific purpose. He’s pulled the trigger and Bucky obeys it. It’s a strange relationship, Doms and subs. There are some who give up their lives to Doms, trust them even when they don’t want to be strung up, abused or put through torturous activities, but they do it anyway because the idea is that the Dom knows what’s best. Steve has his agency in their relationship. He knows what’s best for himself. He’s not a slave and Bucky isn’t a Master. Steve’s a man in a circumstance so unique that movies should be made in his honor. Perhaps one day they will. Bucky performs a service as a Dom, and Steve’s asking for it. So Bucky gives it.

“Did you fuckin’ hear me? I said _strip_!”

Steve scrambles out of his clothes, breathing ragged. He stands there, cupping himself, feet shoulders apart. He looks at Bucky, his eyes glazing over and nods softly.

“That’s a good boy,” Bucky says, coming closer. He circles Steve like a shark, cupping Steve’s ass, running his hand down the line of Steve’s spine. “So pretty, ain’tcha?”

Steve just whimpers.

“But you’ve been so _bad_ though. Takin’ detours, lettin’ yourself be touched by others. That’s _my_ job, isn’t it?”

Steve gasps.

Bucky pulls Steve’s hair roughly. Steve steps back, crashing into Bucky. His neck is arched and exposed, adam’s apple bobbing. He’s breathing so heavily you’d think he just ran for miles.

“Gonna have to make sure you know who you belong to.” Bucky nips Steve’s neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to leave little pink marks on pale skin. “I’m gonna strap you into my fucking bench, smack that ass with a whip till it’s bleeding.”

“Oh God!”

“That good? Think that’ll get my point across?” Subtle way of asking if Steve’s okay with it. He _does_ , after all, get the only say in what’s happening. Bucky’s just a tool to be used. Ironic, considering most would think it’s the other way around. Ignorance, really.

Steve nods eagerly, tears already shimmering in his eyes.

“Use your words, slut.” Bucky shoves Steve away. He winces, watching as Steve collapses on the floor. His knees are flushing pink from the contact. Steve’s shivering, hands so jittery that Bucky’s almost worried he won’t be able to form coherent sentences.

“Yes, yes, Sir, please. I’ve been so bad.” He looks to the floor and takes a shaky breath. “So bad.”

“Yes you have. You’re a little slut you know? Lettin’ other people touch you. Did I give you permission to do that?”

Steve shakes his head. “N-no.”

“No _what_?” Bucky snaps.

“No S-sir.”

Bucky crouches in front of Steve, stroking his fingers through mussed hair. “Gonna make you my good boy again. Then we’ll talk about gettin’ you a pretty collar for that pretty neck.”

Steve preens, smiling lopsided.

“Get into my room, slut. And don’t you dare think about walking on two feet. You crawl.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bucky crosses his arms. The second Steve’s facing away, crawling for the playroom, Bucky’s face morphs from stern authority to admiration and desperate need. He’s so in love, he’s so in love and it hurts so much. He takes a deep breath, pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns it on silent. RottenRogers is trending again. He rolls his eyes. Of fucking course. He wants to check and see if Steve made the news with his little outing, but now’s not the time.

Bucky finds Steve in the playroom. He’s on the floor, sitting like a well-trained puppy, eager to please. Bucky scratches Steve behind the ear, cooing. “Good boy.”

Steve smiles, looking up. He’s so eager for this. There’s no trace of fear in his face, only relief. His shaking shoulders are prouder—the defeat washed away already. Bucky feels better about this. Steve’s not only eager, but he’s happy. That’s all Bucky wants for Steve.

“C’mere.” Bucky grabs Steve by the back of the neck, digs his fingers in and throws Steve onto the fucking bench. He swats Steve’s ass, smiling sinisterly when Steve yelps. “Don’t you fuckin’ move!” Steve goes still, except for his trembling. Bucky takes his time with strapping Steve in.

“You good?” he asks, voice gentle. Harder scenes require small breaks like this, especially for people who aren’t used to them together. This is the first “hard” scene Bucky’s ever done with Steve. He needs to make sure he doesn’t cross any boundaries.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Tie ‘em tighter? Wanna feel it burn.”

“You’re gonna let me aloe you the fuck up after.”

Steve laughs. “Deal.”

Bucky yanks the belt, listening to it zing and Steve’s wrists are held hostage, tight against the armrest. “Put your head down.” Bucky guides Steve’s head forward into the headrest. He buckles Steve’s neck first, then going up to the straps for the back of his head. “What’s your safeword?”

“Eagle.”

“And you promise to use it if this gets too much?”

“Yes.”

“I’m serious, Steve, don’t be a hero. Macho ain’t a good thing.”

“I know, Buck. Trust me.”

Bucky walks around the bench and starts to tie up Steve’s legs and ankles. “I do trust you. So don’t make me regret it.”

Steve laughs softly. “Peg ‘n Sharon never broke out of character. I kinda like it better.”

“What? Me in character?” Bucky pauses.

“No, when you stop. It’s just nice to have a little reminder who we both are.”

Bucky kisses Steve’s ankle, brushing his fingers over the soft soles. “I love you, you idiot.”

Steve tries to nod but the restraints hold him back. “Jesus that’s tight.”

“I can fix it?”

“No, I want it like this.”

Bucky stands between Steve’s legs. He appraises his work, admiring Steve’s little pink hole. It’s fluttering, begging. Bucky reaches out, swirling a single finger around it.

“ _Oh_!”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Am I ready?”

“Are you?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, hit me.”

“I won’t break character again, Steve. Safeword or I won’t know if I’m going too rough. If you need a break, tell me yellow and I’ll pull back. Red if you need me to move to another area of your body. Got it?”

“I got it.”

“I’m nervous, Steve,” Bucky admits. “Be easy on me.”

Steve snorts. “I’m the one strapped to a bench with my legs spread open.”

Bucky purrs, fingering Steve’s hole again. “Don’t I know it.” He sucks in a deep breath, moving away from Steve over to his whips, floggers and paddles. He grabs a pleated whip, touching the leather strands. This’ll leave welts for weeks… He turns around, flicking the whip in his hand.

Steve tenses, a little whimper escaping his mouth.

“What was that, slut?” Bucky moves closer. He lets Steve feel the whip, trailing the pleated tassels along the curve of his ass. “You want me to forgive you? Fuckin’ slut, don’t I treat you right? Don’t I give you what you need?”

Steve mewls out, pushing his face into the headrest.

Bucky flicks his wrist, cracking the whip against Steve’s ass. It’s not enough to welt, but it does pull out a pink flush. “I _asked_ you a question!”

“Yes!” Steve yells. “Yes, yes you treat me right.” He starts shivering again.

Bucky trails the whip up to Steve’s neck. “Gonna teach you a fuckin’ lesson. Serves you right, Goddamned slut.” He pulls back, bring the whip in a wide angle and cracks it against Steve’s back. Hot, angry lines rush forward and Steve screams. Bucky hits him again, and again, and again.

Blood trickles from Steve’s trembling back. He’s sobbing, pulling on his restraints and doing his best to tip the fucking bench over. Bucky smiles, it’s bolted into the floor for a reason…

“This hurt? Good. Because that’s what you do to my heart when you betray me, filthy piece of shit.” He cracks the whip against Steve’s ass, not nearly as hard as he did on Steve’s bloody back. The wounds aren’t deep. It looks worse than it really is—Bucky knows from almost too much experience. Clint always makes him break skin.

Nat taught Bucky to never hold back. A Dom has to trust a sub as much as a sub has to trust a Dom. Bucky can’t humor Steve, but he can be aware of the different levels of skin. Steve’s ass is softer than the hard skin of his back, there’s more fat in the curve of Steve’s ass. It’s not that Bucky’s going _easy_ , he’s just being cognizant of the different kinds of skin. Basic human anatomy and all that.

Bucky hits Steve three more times on the ass before he pauses, watching Steve’s writhing form.

“I’m sorry! Steve wails. He’s drooling, saliva mixing with chunky streams of tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“For what, bitch?” Bucky flicks the whip up at Steve’s balls. _Way_ lighter than he did on his ass.

Steve shrieks. “For lettin’—oh _Jesus_ —for lettin’ o-other people—other people!”

Bucky nods, immediately bringing the whip to Steve’s shoulder. It cracks loud, like thunder.

Steve hisses out. “Jesus _fuck_!”

“I don’t think you get to come tonight.” Bucky walks around the bench, checking over the raised lines and weeping wounds on Steve’s body. “You hurt me, Steve. Bad boys don’t get rewards.”

Steve whimpers loudly. “M’sorry…m’sorry…”

“Sorry isn’t good enough.” He hits Steve on the back of the neck, wincing when Steve lets out a bloodcurdling shriek. He doesn’t safe word, he doesn’t even tell Bucky to stop from hitting there, but Bucky doesn’t want to hear that sound again.

Bucky brings over a fucking machine. “Since you’re such a slut, don’t suppose I need to work you open. Should let this guy do all that, right?”

He grabs a dildo, bringing it to where Steve can see.

“Y-yes,” Steve whispers. “Yes, Sir.”

Bucky swipes a bottle of lube from one of his toolboxes and then starts setting up the machine. He affixes the dildo, graciously lubing it up. He brings it closer to Steve’s ass. “Gonna let you think about what you did. How’s a half hour sound? If you come, I’ll smack your fuckin’ slut of a face. You hear me?”

“Oh _God_.”

“I asked you a fuckin’ question!” Bucky snags the whip and snaps it between Steve’s shoulder blades.

“YES! YES fuckin’ yes! I—yes…” Steve breaks off, sobbing. He struggles against his restraints again. Useless. Bucky sees the red around Steve’s wrists and ankles. He looks over at another tool box in the room. There’s tubs of aloe in there. He’ll need it for tonight.

Bucky lubes up his pointer finger, slipping it inside Steve’s ass. His cock throbs, feeling the way Steve’s hot hole grips onto him, pleading for him to stay inside. He slips his finger out, biting his lip. It’s so cold compared to Steve’s body. He wants to bury himself inside Steve, feel that warmth again. Bucky cracks his hand over Steve’s red ass. Steve yelps. Bucky massages the soft skin, feeling the heat radiating off it. With his other hand, he brings the fucking machine closer. He moves away, lining up the machine with Steve’s hole.

“Thirty minutes with this. I’m gonna clothespin your balls.” He waits, watching Steve, also waiting to see if that’s not something Steve wants. When Steve just breathes deeper, anger flashing in his face, Bucky keeps going. He turns the machine onto its slowest setting, watching the way Steve’s hole gives way and it slips inside.

“Oh— _fuck_ —fuck shit _fuck_!” Steve growls. He struggles, trying to get away and whines uselessly. The machine burrows into him, sweet little sounds of slick against dildo and ass permeate the room. Bucky’s so hard he wants to come all over Steve’s face.

He walks away, taking a few moments to compose himself. He listens to Steve’s moans, enjoying the way he sounds pleased instead of in pain. Bucky likes hurting people. It sets fire inside and he’s even come untouched from doing it before. But there’s just something about Steve Rogers that makes him want to provide pleasure more than this.

He grabs a bag of clothespins and comes back. Sitting on the floor. “You like that cock splitting you open, bitch?” He pinches Steve’s ass.

“Y—gguh—yes, yes—oh fuck!”

Bucky opens the bag, showing the pins to Steve. “I’m gonna hurt you with these.”

Steve’s mouth is open, drool shimmering from his chin in a shiny line—like a spider’s web. He doesn’t say anything. His eyes are glassy, but he’s at least looking at Bucky.

Bucky rolls Steve’s balls in his fingers, massaging them, getting them taut and warm.

Steve moans, rocking into the fucking machine and down into Bucky’s palm.

“You like this?” Bucky asks, using a faux sweet voice.

“Yes.”

Bucky squeezes, hard. Steve jerks trying to pull away. All he does is manage to slip the dildo out of his ass. Bucky sighs. “Now look what you did.” He stands up, realigning the dildo and turns the machine onto a higher setting.

“Oh _fuck me_!” Steve rocks as much as he can back into the dildo.

“Slip it outta your ass again and I’ll shove a cock cage back on you so fast, I swear to God.”

Steve whimpers. “N-no, please no.”

“Then behave, bitch.” Bucky sits back down. He grabs Steve’s balls again, getting the thin skin between his fingers and then slips the clothespin on it.

Steve shrieks. He flails again, more aware that he has to keep the dildo inside him. “No no no no…Please no no.”

Bucky ignores him. Not a safe word. He pulls Steve’s skin again and slips another pin on. He works methodically, almost completely desensitized to Steve’s incessant protests and the way precome is oozing from Steve’s cock, a little wobbly trail all the way to the floor.

Bucky’s searching for skin when he decides the last pin will go at the underside of Steve’s cock, right at the base. He pinches the skin and Steve goes positively still. Bucky looks up, eyes wide.

Steve’s mouth is open, more drool shining in spidery trails from his lips.

“Steve?” Bucky asks.

Steve doesn’t respond.

Bucky pulls his hand back, moving to slide under the bench and over to Steve’s face. He breaks one of the drool trails and wipes his face of it. “Steve?” He cups Steve’s face. “Hey, hey where are you?”

Steve blinks, once twice. Clarity clears out those pretty blues. He smiles. “H-hey…”

“Jesus, Steve!” Bucky flicks Steve’s face. It’s kind of counterproductive, considering he shouldn’t really be stimulating Steve any more with him teetering in subspace and _too far gone_ space (as Bucky likes to put it). “You with me?”

“I feel good.” Steve presses his head into the restraints, wiping drool from his chin. “Jesus, I’m a mess.”

Bucky smiles. “Should I turn off the machine?”

“No, I like it.”

“Want me to keep going?”

“Mhmm.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, adoringly scratching behind Steve’s ear. He crawls back under the bench and back over to Steve’s purpling cock. His balls are almost blue, but that’s to be expected with the amount of clothespins he’s got on them. He grabs Steve’s cock, stroking it slowly, watching the way Steve’s eyes glaze over again. He opts not to put the final pin on.

“You’re doin’ so good, baby,” Bucky says. “Makin’ me remember why I love you so much.”

Steve relaxes, pushing his hips down into Bucky’s hand.

“Don’t come baby, you’re doin’ so good. Hate to mess it all up.” He collects precome on his fingers, using it to slick up Steve’s dick.

“M-more,” Steve grits out, brow furrowed as he focuses to control himself.

“More what? Little slut wants his Sir’s cock?”

Steve nods as best as he can.

Bucky scoots out from under the bench. He unzips his pants and releases some of the restraints on Steve’s neck and head. “Gonna suck me off okay? I wanna come on that bitch of a face.”

Steve nods. He traces his lips eagerly with his silky tongue.

Bucky steps closer, feeding his cock into his boy’s mouth. He pumps fast, snapping his hips sharply. Steve’s mouth is hot and wet. His little tongue is doing its best, but Bucky’s moving too fast. He buries himself in Steve’s mouth, forcing that mouth open to almost a breaking point. He hits the back of Steve’s throat, over and over.

Steve’s sobbing around Bucky’s cock, choking. New lines of drool slip to the floor. Bucky watches, mesmerized by how shiny his dick gets each time he pulls out from Steve’s mouth. He grabs Steve’s hair, tugging hard.

“That’s right, bitch, take it just like that.” He snaps his hips faster, rolling his whole body into it. “Oh yeah—good lil’slut. Gonna paint you up all red white and blue.” He laughs, thinking about his _Captain America_ thoughts before. Captain Cockslut’s more like it. He suddenly wants to get Steve a shirt like that…

Bucky’s balls pinch up and he pulls back. He’s trembling, breathing far too heavy to hold back his orgasm. He fucks his fist over his cock, bringing it close enough to spurt right at Steve’s face.

Steve moans, tongue dancing out to collect what it can.

Bucky keeps fucking his fist over himself, shivering and on the verge of breaking out into tears himself. He grabs himself, smacking his cock against Steve’s cheek.

Steve gasps, blinking. He tries to pull Bucky back into his mouth, but Bucky yanks at his hair, pulling Steve’s head up. It looks uncomfortable, his body twisted in a way it’s not built for.

“Gettin’ a little greedy, bitch! Can’t have that now can we?”

Steve whimpers.

“You don’t get to come tonight.”

Steve sobs, broken and defeated. It tugs on Bucky’s heart. He wants to fuck into his boy, whisper behind his ear about how much he worships this body, how proud he is. But that’s _not_ what Steve wants, and Bucky’s here to provide for Steve based on what _Steve_ wants.

Bucky zips himself back inside his pants. He’s floating from post-orgasm, smiling a little too much for a Dom in a harder scene, but fuck it. He’s not perfect. He turns off the fucking machine and yanks the dildo out of Steve. It _thwips_ out of Steve’s ass, sending lube spurting in a graceful arch into the air. Bucky’s almost captivated until it hits his shirt and he groans. “Fuckin’ dirty slut, you ruined my shirt.” Lies, it’s lube and he can wash it. He cracks his hand over Steve’s ass, watching proudly as a perfect hand imprint appears.

Steve sobs into the head restraint.

“Thirty minutes are up,” Bucky says. He goes back over to the wall with all his whips lined up in perfect fashion. He trails his hands over them, adoringly like one would pat a child on the head. He grabs a riding crop off its hook. “Think you’ve almost proven to me how sorry you are, bitch.”

Steve nods, now that his head is free. “Yes, yes I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry!”

“Mhmm, we’ll see…” Bucky trails the crop up the curve of Steve’s ass and up his spine. “Gonna let me knock those pins off with this? Of course you are, you’re a slut for that shit.”

Steve sobs. He grits his teeth together, but he doesn’t say anything to the contrary. His face is swollen from the headrest, the restraints left angry marks on the back of his neck. He’s got come and spit all over his face. He’s positively ruined and Bucky’s _absolutely_ proud of it.

Bucky doesn’t take his time next. He flicks each pin off with precise accuracy, making sure to go one at a time. The release is more painful than the application. Steve’s screaming, wiggling desperately. He’s pleading, begging Bucky to stop, strings of _oh God, no no, stop please, stop, PLEASE_ , but Bucky ignores them. They aren’t safe words.

Once the pins are all cast around the floor, Bucky places one final crack of the whip against the tip of Steve’s cock.

“Jesus FUCK!” Steve howls. He flails uselessly against his restraints. “No more, no more, no more, no more!”

Bucky moves around to his face, kneeling. “There is no more,” he says, voice soft. He strokes Steve’s come-streaked face. “You did it, baby boy. You proved to me how sorry you are.”

Steve’s mouth rounds, eyes to match. He looks at Bucky reverently, almost like he has no idea where he is or how he got there. He turns, looking at his body, nibbling on his lip. “I did it?”

Bucky laughs. “You did it.”

Bucky massages at Steve’s limbs before pulling them out of the restraints. “Don’t move too fast.” He works at Steve’s fingers, closing them and bending the wrist slowly, _slowly_. Bruises paint Steve’s skin like a Monet painting. He kisses each finger. “You’re so good, so good and brave.”

Steve’s breath hitches.

Bucky works at Steve’s other arm now, repeating the same process of working the muscles and kissing the angry welts. Steve’s skin is hot and he’s red all over, and not just from the whipping. “You wanna come tonight? You can.”

Steve hums, considering.

“I’ll give you my mouth if you want?” Bucky flicks his tongue over Steve’s wrist. Most people have it wrong, blow jobs are _definitely_ power positions. Holding a man’s most intimate part of him in your _mouth_? Yeah, that’s a lot of power. Bucky’s never been against giving a hummer to a sub. Besides, he likes cock in his mouth…

“Y-yeah,” Steve finally says. “Yeah I want that.”

“Let’s get you out of this first.” Bucky massages down Steve’s calves. “Once you’re out, don’t stand up. I’m gonna clean you off and then we can start gettin’ ya up. Okay?”

Steve nods.

“Was this okay, Steve? Did I do okay?”

Steve laughs. It makes Bucky freeze. It’s such an open sound, so strong for a man who’s been brutalized just moments before.

“What?!”

“You did great, Buck. I really needed this. It was nice to get outta my head.”

Bucky frowns. “Let’s not bring that shit up yet. This is still you n’ me time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Bucky growls approvingly. “Good little kitten.”

Once Steve’s out of the restraints, Bucky gets baby wipes from a toolbox and carefully cleans Steve’s face. He grimaces when he sees little tears at the corner of Steve’s mouth. He’s not sure if that was from Steve biting the restraints or how hard he shoved his dick into Steve’s mouth. Either way, Bucky’s not entirely pleased with himself. He holds that disappointment inside, not wanting to expose such negative energy to a man coming back from subspace.

“I wanna move you to the bed. Then you’ll let me give you an aloe massage, right?”

Steve nods, a dopey smile on his face.

“How ya doin’ Steve?”

“I’m over the moon. The world’s spinning.”

Bucky snorts. “Okay, I’m gonna carry your sorry ass.” He pulls Steve up before scooping Steve into his arms and carries him like a blushing bride over into the bedroom. Gently, he puts Steve on the bed, pressing kisses all over his lover’s face.

Steve giggles, swatting Bucky away.

Bucky scampers back into the playroom for some aloe. When he comes back, Steve’s barely able to keep his eyes open. He looks at Bucky with exposed, raw emotion. Emotions that are light, happy. They fill the room up, warming Bucky from the soul outward.

Bucky gets down into just his briefs and then crawls onto the bed. He works the aloe into Steve’s skin, smiling adoringly when he hears Steve snoring. He checks Steve’s pulse, steady and even. After he’s finished with the welts, Bucky goes into the bathroom and grabs Neosporin.

He carefully applies the antibacterial onto all of the wounds on Steve’s back. Steve doesn’t even flinch. He’s so fast asleep. Once Bucky’s finished, he applies bandages and then covers Steve with a blanket. He pulls Steve into him, curling protectively around his lover.

Listening to Steve’s breathing is hypnotic. Bucky fixates on it, letting it carry him into worlds yet explored. He sees colors that don’t exist, hears songs sung by angels. He’s almost asleep when Steve shifts, pressing his hand to Bucky’s bare chest.

Bucky looks down, face softening.

“Bucky?”

“I’m here.”

“I wanna love you so badly.”

The happiness he felt is sucked out into space. He goes rigid. It’s not fair to take to heart what a person says when they’re coming down from subspace. Steve’s technically drunk on endorphins. But the words pierce Bucky, berating him full of holes and he’s dying. Dying because, yes, _yes,_ he wants that too. He just hadn’t expected Steve to say it like that. A, “I think I love you,” or “I’m falling for you.” Not the way he did…

Because all it says to Bucky is that Steve _doesn’t_ love him. Likes him, trusts him. But there’s no love there.

“Why don’t you?” Bucky asks, selfishly. Steve’s raw and too open. It’s disgusting that Bucky would take advantage of him like this in an altered state. But Bucky’s not a perfect person. He’s selfish, fearful, cocky… There’s a list of things Bucky is and most of it isn’t pure.

“I don’t believe you,” Steve says, distant and whimsical. He shifts in Bucky’s arms, nuzzling his head against Bucky’s chest. “No one loves me. Never have.”

Bucky doesn’t answer. Of course. _Of course_ it wasn’t about Steve’s lack of interest. It’d been about fear. Bucky wants to chew up his own soul and cast it into Hell. He’s so damn stupid, _stupid_!

Bucky kisses Steve’s head, tears slipping from his eyes. “I swear, Steve. I do love you. Way too much.”

Steve doesn’t answer. His breathing evens out and he goes back to lightly snoring.

Bucky stares at the opposite wall. He hates himself for making this all about _him_. Steve’s afraid of love. Whatever happened in Steve’s past, whatever was there—it made Steve afraid. Bucky closes his eyes. He wipes tears away and swallows hard. “Jesus…”

Bucky doesn’t sleep that night. Not even for a minute.

* * *

Bucky yawns for the umpteenth time. He slouches in his seat, leaning too far over on the desk. Judge Jameson is flipping through his memo on _why_ he needs an extension. Jen is sitting at the other desk, her legs crossed. She’s so damn poised it almost disgusts Bucky. Fuck, he wants more coffee. He grabs his mug, whining softly when he sees it’s empty.

Foggy pats him on the shoulder. “You okay man?” he whispers. He’s behind Bucky. Bucky still needs to submit a motion to add counsel. Jesus, law has too many motions for everything.

“Tired,” Bucky grumbles. “Didn’t sleep.”

Foggy grimaces. He leans back when Jameson clears his throat.

“Motion for extension is granted, you have an extra two weeks before we begin evidentiary hearings.”

“Your Honor, with all due respect—” Jen stands up.

“With _all due respect_ ,” Jameson cuts her off. “I’m giving Barnes two more weeks before he needs to submit all his evidence for trial. Motion granted, next case!” He slams the gavel down. Bucky nearly jumps out of his skin.

Jen shrugs, looking at Bucky. She furrows her brow when he doesn’t smile or even acknowledge how fast she can turn off her prosecutor persona. She walks over to Bucky, still with that look of concern on her face. “You look like shit.”

Bucky laughs. “Thanks.”

Foggy joins the two now that court is over. They’ve got about twenty minutes before they need to shuffle out for the next motion.

“Does Steve still live with you?” Jen asks.

Bucky bristles. He looks up at her, suspicion all over his face. He’s not sure who he can trust with this case anymore. Oscorp’s got its grubby fingers up everyone’s asses. He’s not sure if she’s bought or not, despite how _useful_ she could be.

“I take that as a yes. He annoying you yet? That’d drive me crazy if a client stayed with me. Why not put him up in a hotel?”

“Pro bono cause, Jen,” Bucky grabs his mug again, forgetting it’s empty. He looks down at it mournfully.

“C’mon, Barnes, lemme get you a refill.” She offers his hand to him, urging him to take it.

Attorneys don’t hate each other. Sure, they’ll argue till they’re blue in the face when it comes to their clients, but take the clients away, and you have people who probably know each other pretty well, and if they don’t, they respect each other. Jen’s a good person, or Bucky _wants_ to think.

“Bucky?” Foggy pokes him. “Man, you need a nap.”

Jen laughs. “He really does.” Together, Jen and Foggy help Bucky up. He finds himself in the hall of the courthouse. He leans a little too heavily into Foggy, eyes fluttering closed.

“Damn, when’s the last time you slept?” Foggy asks.

“I forget,” Bucky says.

“No wonder you need an extension,” Jen says. “You’re a fucking mess, Barnes.”

Bucky shrugs a solo shoulder. “Sorry.”

“Let’s get him a taxi,” she says. She carefully slumps all of Bucky’s weight into Foggy and then darts outside.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“I haven’t been sleeping.” Bucky leans against the wall, instead of Foggy. He likes Foggy’s build honestly. Bucky’s always had a soft spot for chubby guys. He wouldn’t mind Steve getting a little weight on him, but then again, all those muscles are just so… _delicious._ Still, leaning all over his friend in a courthouse isn’t exactly okay, especially since reporters are outside. Though, having him suspected of being with Foggy would be better than being suspected of sleeping with Steve. So, there’s also that.

“Why not?” Foggy asks.

“Stress.” It’s honest at least.

“Dude.” Foggy clicks his tongue. “I really need you to go home and go to bed. Me n’ Matt can take care of the contract thing with Stark. We’re narrowing down some ideas actually.”

“Oh! Good!” Bucky smiles, watching Jen come back inside. She puts a hand on her hip, smirking his way. Are they friends? Is it okay to _want_ to be Jen’s friend? He does want to. He _does_ admire her. She’s wicked intelligent, everything a prosecutor should be and he _thinks_ she’s a good person. She just wants the world to be safe. He prays she’s not bought. He feels Jameson may not be considering how easy the motion was today.

“Alright sleepy-butt, let’s go.” She picks him off the wall and wraps his arm around herself.

“We can’t go out there like this!” Bucky snaps to attention. “I can walk myself! I walked in here!”

Jen frowns but she doesn’t say anything further. The three leave the courthouse. As suspected, swarms of reporters are out here. Jen ignores them, they ignore Foggy and Bucky’s too tired to actually comprehend what they’re saying. It’s a swarm of sounds, like too many bees and grasshoppers all at once. Bucky can’t pick out vowels or the shape of a single word.

Silence startles him after the taxi door closes. He looks over at Jen, smiling. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I think you’re really great, honestly,” Bucky says. “I mean, I just wanted you to know that. Cause—cause I’m gonna be really mean to you later.”

She smirks. “I wouldn’t want you to be kind. Bending over and submitting isn’t really your style.”

Bucky’s eyes snap open. “Excuse me?”

She laughs. “I mean, you know—you’re a hardcore guy!”

He relaxes. “Oh.”

She rolls her eyes, tossing her hair behind a shoulder. “You’re also weird.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah. That’s fair.”

“Ahem…” Foggy crosses his arms. “This taxi is too small for you two to be flirting so close to me.”

“I’m gay, idiot,” Bucky says.

“I always forget that.” Jen straightens her seatbelt. Bucky focuses on her neck. He likes necks. He remembers Steve’s neck, arched and so sweet. Fuck, all he wants is Steve right now. He wants to _know_ Steve. Know his past, his exes, not just Sharon and Peggy. He knows that small story, and they weren’t even real lovers.

“Got a problem with it?” he asks.

Jen shakes her head. “I don’t care, but I’ll admit I have a certain type of gay in my head, and you’re not it.”

“Twinks? Yeah, straight people often think we’re all loud-mouthed little bitches who wear too much pink and sparkly eyeliner. Not that I’m dissing sparkly eyeliner.” He smiles. “I think it brings out my eyes.”

Jen holds herself steady. Bucky was too kind, honestly. He should’ve been meaner. Ignorance is excusable but—Bucky doesn’t owe it to anyone not to be so _tired_ of stereotypes.

“No,” Jen bobs her head along to the bumps in the road, “I just meant that you’re too skinny. I like my bears.”

“What?”

“Oh Jesus. Why am I still in this car?” Foggy presses himself to the window.

“My brother’s gay. He’s also huge, rippling muscle, fuzzy all over. I think of big hyper-masculine men when I think of gay men.”

Bucky blushes. “Oh.” They ride along in silence, Bucky staring at his toes. They’re almost to his apartment when his head snaps up and he says, “Hey wait! I’m not skinny!”

Jen laughs, covering her mouth with perfectly manicured fingers.

* * *

Bucky wakes on the sofa with his head on Steve’s lap and fingers playing with his hair. “Mmm, that’s nice.” He stretches out, pushing his feet into the armrest. He hasn’t opened his eyes enough know if its light or dark out, but he doesn’t want to. Steve’s fingers scratch along his scalp and he gets a delightful little tingle each time Steve swirls strands of hair around his fingers.

“It’s getting long.”

“I keep it greased back. Pomade is a life-saver.” Bucky turns, looking up at Steve. Steve’s chest looks huge from this angle, Bucky likes it. “What time izzit?”

Steve looks at his phone. “Around 3AM.”

“I slept all day?”

“You needed it. Jen Walters and Foggy carted your ass up here and you dropped on the sofa cold.”

“Jen?”

Steve nods, looking away. “She was—nice.”

“She doesn’t hate you.” Bucky reaches up, cradling Steve’s cheek. “She’s just doin’ her job.”

“No, I know that. It’s just—weird—I guess.”

“Did she ask you anything? Cause that’s totally a violation.”

Steve smiles. “No, we just talked about you not sleepin’. I had to act kind of dumb because I didn’t think you wanted me tellin’ her I sleep with you at night.”

Bucky nods. “Smart kid.”

Steve smiles again, prouder this time. “I made dinner? It’s mac and cheese but if you’re hungry? You didn’t eat all day.”

Bucky sits up, cracking his neck and knuckles. He groans, stretching his hands up to the ceiling. He sighs happily when his shoulders pop. “Nah, I wanna see if I can just wake up at 7 so my sleep schedule doesn’t get too fucked.”

“Understandable.” Steve shrugs. “Just thought I’d offer.”

“I wanna ask you somethin’ though.”

Steve bites his lower lip, brow twitching. He’s always so nervous. The only time he’s ever serene is after sex or in a scene. It destroys Bucky.

“You’ve had other—partners—right?”

Steve nods. “Peggy and Sharon.”

“No, I mean outside of BDSM. Like boyfriends or girlfriends?”

Steve just sucks in a deep breath through his nose. Bucky watches his chest rise and fall. He’s balling up his fists…

“Steve, I don’t mean to pry, but, I’ve got questions.”

“Eagle.”

“What?”

“Eagle,” Steve says again. “Please, eagle.” He’s tearing up, lips trembling.

“Oh…” Bucky pulls Steve into him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s quaking shoulders. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry.” He kisses Steve’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

“S’not your fault,” Steve whispers against Bucky’s button down. “I’m just—I’m not ready.”

Bucky sighs. He’s ready, way more than ready. It’s holding them back at this point, but he _has_ to respect Steve’s limits. So he sits back, pulls Steve into his arms, kisses Steve’s hair and listens to his lover cry.

Bucky Barnes is not a murderer, but as he listens to Steve’s breathless apologies, his soft little sniffles and feels the way he wipes his nose on Bucky shirt? Bucky’s contemplating how to hide a body after he gets done with torture. Whoever did this to Steve Rogers deserves nothing more than a long, drawn-out murder.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Add me on tumblr! [click me](http://ghostbuckster.tumblr.com/)


	6. Interrogatory Request

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the super long wait! The good news (maybe?) is this fic is almost over! I've updated some tags but these tags are a damn mess.  
> RIP
> 
> Anyway, story. Please note that this fic was half-assed beta read by me. I didn't beta read from "the sex scene" onwards though, so if something is incomprehensible, just bring it to my attention! hahaha

Bucky watches Steve tap his fingers, his head bobbing to the music. Turns out, Steve prefers indie bands with a light guitar melody and would rather hear a girl sing over a guy. Bucky doesn’t know why that stays with him, but it does. It’s the little things about Steve that Bucky doesn’t seem to know. Their relationship has moved faster than Bucky had originally wanted it to. But the precarious nature of it all left them both drunk on the risk and now that Bucky doesn’t know if he won’t be flat out murdered the next time he walks to the corner store for a coke, he tends to take risks.

Bucky knows Steve’s morals. He knows why Steve prefers being a sub than a Dom or to be in a vanilla relationship. He knows Steve likes sleeping on the left side of the bed so he can slip out to the bathroom a few times a night. Steve’s bladder is tiny for such a huge guy. Bucky knows Steve prefers savory bagels to sweet and if given the choice between a salad and a bowl of pasta, Steve is _always_ picking pasta. He’s learning the small things about Steve. Like how Steve likes indie music with a girl singer. Like the left side of the bed. Tiny bladder.

God, Bucky is so in love.

The sun sets over Manhattan. Through the windows, the room is painted in orange hues and black shadows. Steve’s still bobbing his head, his brow furrowed as he sketches something. Bucky’s covered in legal documents. He sent a few interrogatories, basically glorified questions that require answers and any supporting documentation possible, to the bar where everything happened at. He’s not sure what he’ll get, but he’s reaching. He’s also trying to make sure Oscorp is unaware of his true plan.

Sam is with his mom and Steve’s mom in Gatlinburg. He texts Steve every now and then about it. Sarah is having a blast hiking, horseback riding and tomorrow she’s supposed to go zip-lining. Bucky’s glad she’s having fun. Someone deserves it. Bucky also feels better that Sam’s down there with her. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t think women can take care of themselves. They _absolutely_ can. But Sam’s got the biggest heart when it comes to Steve, and that heart is what’s going to keep Oscorp away from Sarah Rogers. And he knows the truth of the situation where Sarah knows just enough to keep her from asking too much. Knowledge is dangerous.

Bucky’s phone buzzes. He looks down, seeing Clint’s name.

_WHY DO YOU HATE ME_

Sighing, Bucky thinks his radio silence to Clint has gone on enough. He stands up, going over to the study. Closing the French doors, he collapses in his desk chair. Clint picks up on the first ring.

“I don’t hate you.” Bucky keeps his voice low. He doesn’t want Steve to hear this.

“Then why didn’t you _text me back_? I’ve been—I can’t keep goin’ like this.” Clint sounds like he’s in a bathroom. His voice echoes and Bucky can hear the rustling of plastic.

“What’d’ya mean? Talk to me.”

“You don’t want me to. Ever since _he_ moved in.”

Bucky’s heart sputters. With a clear head for the moment, Bucky lets the pieces all trickle into place and fit nice and snug together. Bucky had been Domming as a service to Clint, but with the endorphins and the severity of their scenes, it makes sense that Clint would muster up some kind of affection for Bucky. And Bucky had done nothing but abuse—even if unknowingly.

“It’s a murder trial, Clint. Not a fuckin’ parkin’ ticket.” Bucky grits his teeth. He pinches the bridge of his nose, staring at his laptop’s keyboard. “I’ve been busy.”

“I see you on the news all the time. I know. I just—you should’ve just told me. You fuckin’ ignored me!”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck off, Barnes. You’re an asshole. Some prettier blond comes into your life and you drop me like I mean shit? We were friends once!”

“Hey!” Bucky sits up, brows furrowing. “We _are_ friends, Clint! That’s all this has ever been! I provide you a service and you go about your life! No strings, remember?”

“I remember. What I didn’t expect is my friend to ditch me like you did.”

“I didn’t—”

“You’ve ignored me for a week, Bucky! A fuckin’ week!”

“I’m in the middle of a _murder trial_!”

“You couldn’t text me that?”

Bucky grips the desk. He swallows slowly, listening to air squeeze in his throat and the clench of muscle. He closes his eyes, remembering that Clint is a sub. And whether that means anything is irrelevant right now. He could argue all day about whether a sub carries the characteristic into their actual lives. Kink doesn’t define a person. Steve has done just fine on his own, for example (well…okay bad example).

“What do you want me to say?” Bucky asks.

“When are you free?”

Bucky’s heart sinks. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Steve—”

“Are you fucking him?” Clint snorts into the phone. “I mean, he’s gorgeous. And he lives with you.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to respond. Clint _is_ a friend, but Clint can’t know. Absolutely not. The less people involved, the better Bucky sleeps at night. He doesn’t want anyone dead because of him and Steve. It’s bad enough having Sarah, Peter, Matt and Foggy all involved. Peter’s just a fucking kid too. Bucky didn’t drag him in, but Peter would be a lot safer if he just played along with Oscorp.

“Bucky? You there?”

“I’m not fucking him, Clint. He’s a client.”

“But if he wasn’t?” Clint sighs, shuffling around where ever he is.

Bucky’s heart squeezes. He doesn’t want to be in this conversation with someone he owes nothing to. Clint has always been a friend. But it suddenly feels like a betrayal. Bucky switches his cell to the other side of his head, rubbing at his ear he’d had it pressed against. Clint laughs into the speaker.

“Man, you would. I would. I think that’s why the country is so in love with this case. Fucker’s beautiful. Did he do it? Do you think?”

“I can’t talk about that.” Bucky’s glad the subject shifts. He’d rather discuss his ethical obligations to Steve and the attorney-client privilege than anything else with Clint right now. At least in that, he wouldn’t have to lie.

“Are we still friends?”

“Yes.”

“But we’re over? What we do?”

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. He can’t decide how to answer it. To say they’re over means he’ll plant suspicion. But to say they’re not would mean Steve would have to face Bucky closing the playroom door with Clint inside, and knowing Bucky was with someone else. Either way, it’s not fair to anyone.

“Just give me some time. I’m just busy. Nat’s a great Dom. She’d be more than happy to help you.”

“Yeah.” There’s a long pause. “Be well, Buck.”

“You too.”

Bucky feels lighter when he takes his first deep breath after the phone call. Things aren’t back to how they were, but at least Clint’s been dealt with for now. Bucky checks his watch. Through some kind of magic, Foggy and Matt had been able to get into Stark Industries to talk to Tony Stark. He’s sure they won’t tell him about it until tomorrow. Bucky puts his phone on silent and decides he needs Steve’s body against his. He’s heavy and drained.

Steve’s still listening to music and sketching when Bucky comes back into the main room. He’s got a flannel tossed over his legs, his sketchbook on his lap. The light next to the couch is on, but other than that, it’s dark in the apartment. Bucky goes over to the windows and starts putting the blinds down.

“Clint?” Steve says.

Bucky winces, guilt pushing from his pores. He turns around, frantic to explain himself.

“Don’t worry. We’re a secret. I know.” Steve puts his pencil down and turns the sketch around. “I drew you.”

“Oh wow.” Bucky comes closer, peering into the darkness to get to the warm yellow glow of the lamp. It’s just a portrait, but Bucky likes the way Steve drew him. His hair looks like water. How Steve does that with a fucking pencil is beyond Bucky’s imagination. “Real nice, Steve.”

“Too bad I can’t upload it on my site anymore.” Steve closes the sketchbook. He leans back, folding his hands behind his head and stretches.

“You have a site?”

“Yeah. It’s just a place to put my art in case anyone wants to see or hire me. It’s just—I had to do it for a class and after that I just kinda kept up with it.”

“I never knew about this.”

“I didn’t wanna tell you.”

Bucky frowns.

“Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t personal. It’s just—I wanted one thing not tainted by this whole—thing.”

Bucky is sure Steve doesn’t mean Bucky’s tainted, but the way the words filter from his mouth, Bucky can’t help but feel slapped in the face. He sits on the couch, a careful distance away from Steve. He looks at his fingers, picking at his cuticles.

“Oh—Buck I didn’t—”

“No I understand,” Bucky looks up, trying to fake a smile, “you’ll always think of this as how we met. Doesn’t matter how it ends.”

Steve licks his lips. He shoves the blanket off himself and crawls into Bucky’s lap. He nuzzles Bucky’s stomach, his big arms wrapping around Bucky’s waist. Bucky can’t help but tangle his fingers in Steve’s short hairs. Steve’s hair is softer than silk.

“Do you wanna see it?” Steve asks.

“I don’t wanna take your safe space from you.” Bucky feels tears well in his eyes. He blinks them furiously away and bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to pull his focus away. The pain radiates on the side of his face. He licks at the wound inside his mouth, wincing from the sting. He’s never thought of what happens _after_ this is all over. Well, briefly. Maybe sometimes in strange passing. They could come out as a couple after it’s all said and done. It’s not _ethical_ per say, but once Steve’s no longer a client, nothing holds Bucky away. What would they even do? Would Steve even want this?

“I—I don’t mean to upset you,” Steve kisses Bucky’s thigh, “I know you care so much about me.”

“I love you.” The words are easier to say, even if Steve grimaces each time. Bucky fears he’s pushing Steve away with it. Maybe it’d be best if this all ended.

“Yeah—that.”

“I need a good sweat session. It’s been far too long.” He pries Steve off him, acutely aware of how Steve looks rejected. His puppy brows pinched and his big plump bottom lip just barely jutting out. But Bucky can’t keep this up right now. It’s too much with Clint and all the backhanded uncertainty that Steve offers to Bucky. Bucky just wants to love him. How wrong is that? Is it fair that Bucky must suffer through Steve’s passive aggressive comments? Or is it even fair that Bucky force his love onto Steve? Bucky feels ashamed. Forcing anyone to do anything is always wrong. Doesn’t matter what it is. From bleating at a friend to come out and party when they don’t want to, to pressuring a girl to have sex with your friends, none of it is okay.

Bucky changes out of his clothes and into some gym attire. He avoids Steve’s gaze as he zips out the door and to the basement for the gym. It’ll feel good to get out of his head. Even he needs that every now and then.

* * *

Bucky wakes up to a soft, warm mouth around his cock. Instinctively, he pushes forward, slipping further into someone’s mouth. With sleep still gripping him, he slowly works his limbs alive. His head's fuzzy. Silky short strands of hair and a smooth neck. Steve. He’s too tired and sore from working himself too hard at the gym to speak. Steve’s tongue coaxes his cock to harden. He feels it twitch alive, the only muscle in him that wants to work. Steve sucks on the tip in a soft, unrushed manner. The darkness of the room makes it impossible for Bucky to know if Steve’s looking up at him or not. Bucky can’t even get his eyes open.

Once hard, Steve carefully swallows Bucky into his mouth more. He starts pumping back and forth and the room fills with the whisper of the bedsheets and the sounds of suckling. Steve doesn’t suck hard. He doesn’t moan and he doesn’t work his hand at Bucky’s balls. He sucks soft, in a careful, almost shy way. Bucky traces his fingers along Steve’s cheekbone.

“Wha’s ‘is?” Bucky decides even that slurred monstrosity took more effort than he’d been willing to dish out.

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers. “I hurt you.”

Bucky goes silent. He doesn’t want this now that Steve thinks he _owes_ it to Bucky. Steve doesn’t owe Bucky _jack shit_. With great effort, Bucky leans forward and pulls Steve off his dick. He helps shift Steve close so their noses bump. Steve’s breath is hot on Bucky’s face and it takes all of Bucky’s soul not to push forward and kiss him.

“You don’t need to do this,” Bucky says.

“I—I know that.”

“Then why?”

“Because I’m—because it’s—fuck.” He recoils, pushing his face into his hands. “Fuck.”

Bucky leans over to the nightstand and turns on the light. Steve’s eyes are wet, tears long since left tracks along his cheeks. He looks up, miserable and ashamed.

“Hey,” Bucky reaches out, “shh, no tears, Kitten.”

Steve curls into Bucky’s embrace, his head resting on Bucky’s sternum. He sniffs, then clears his throat. “My ex was a piece of shit.”

“We all have one like that.” Bucky doesn’t want to sound flippant, but he also doesn’t want to scare the conversation away.

“Yeah—no I know that.” Steve grabs Bucky’s hand, tracing along the veins in it. “Just—he was a real ass. And I was an idiot.”

“Wanna talk about it now?” Bucky feels Steve’s muscles clench. For a long pause, Bucky’s resigned to think the conversation is over and that’s that. But then Steve sighs, dropping Bucky’s hand. He rolls off Bucky and lies face up, staring at the ceiling fan.

“It’s just that—I was so in love with him. I justified everything he did. I didn’t even know it was abusive until Sam had a broken bottle in my face with a warning that he didn’t want to hurt me.”

“What?” Bucky had never heard something escalate so quickly.

“Brock beat me before I even knew what BDSM was. And I liked it. So I let it happen. But it never felt like the way it does with you.”

Bucky’s stomach twists. BDSM can quickly turn into abuse with one wrong move in protocol. The idea that he could be abusing Steve makes his hair stand on end.

“So I did dumb shit to make him hit me. Maybe—maybe he—no wait—no he was a bad guy.”

“Yes,” Bucky says, almost more angrily than he means to, “yes he was—is.”

“I almost hurt Sam because of him. My whole mind was so—twisted. We’d met in deployment so that made everything so fast. And I don’t mean to compare you—I don’t. But bad situations make other bad situations come back. And this—no matter how I cut it—is a bad situation.”

Bucky breaks out in a cold sweat.

“I know you’re not him, Buck. I know it. I _know_ it. But I won’t ever stop thinkin’ about it. And it ain’t you. So don’t go blamin’ yourself or something stupid, cause I do that enough for both of us. I swear to God—fuck, I swear—if you back out, if you get soft on me or something—I’ll fuckin’ scream. I need this, Buck. I don’t know if it’s because I think I deserve punishment or if it’s because I like takin’ orders and having some kind of structure, but I need it. So I swear to God—I swear—don’t take a fuckin’ high road with me about this.”

Bucky’s only response is a curt nod and the most pathetic attempt at a smile. He scratches his arm, digesting all that Steve just said. He knows plenty of people who sub who’ve been victims of rape, abuse, robberies. The loss of power triggers something and the way to regain it often is the power to _give_ themselves to someone else. Some go the opposite way, choosing to Dom. Some don’t even venture into kink. Trauma isn’t standard and no two experiences are the same. But Bucky can’t help to be fearful of what this means on a deeper level with their relationship. He’ll wonder if what he’s doing is a way for Steve to work through trauma, or a way to experience it again.

“This is the part where I really need you to say something.” Steve scoots closer, putting his hand on Bucky’s knee. Bucky stares at the man’s hand, the shape of it outlined by the light pollution that bleeds through the curtains.

“I have nothing to say.”

“Why not?”

“Because—I don’t.” Bucky has so many thoughts in his mind that it’s hard to focus on each one. They’re loud, so loud. They scream, shriek and crash into each other. Is this okay? Is Steve okay? Is he abusive? Is he a good Dom? Is he healthy for Steve? Will they love each other when this is all over? Will he die? He can’t figure out where the thoughts end and a new one begins. He frowns, cupping his forehead. He knows, objectively he _knows_ that what he’s saying isn’t what Steve needs to hear. Steve needs comfort. He needs an affirmation that Bucky doesn’t think less of him or that it’ll be okay. But Bucky doesn’t know if it will. He just _doesn’t_ know if he can be the person that works Steve through a trauma like that.

And the thought cuts into him like the jagged end of glass.

* * *

Steve lays his head on Bucky’s lap at breakfast. He’d gotten up early to make Bucky a nice breakfast before Bucky consulted with his other attorney friends about the plan. He’d already eaten his portion, which left now to try to bridge the divide that seems to only grow more and more with every second. Steve’s on the verge of tears. His muscles are tight and each time he turns his neck too quickly, he throws it into a cramp. So he does what he thinks is the only way to make this pain go away. He seeks out Bucky, desperate for affirmation and not the rejection he’d felt last night.

Bucky doesn’t pet him. He doesn’t coo or tease him. He just keeps eating, his eyes staring blankly ahead. Steve closes his eyes, scooting closer. He wraps his arms and legs around one of Bucky’s and feels the sting of tears. He’d messed up last night. He thought Bucky would want to know. That’s what boyfriends do, right? Open up about their pasts to each other?

Except Steve doesn’t know a damn thing about Bucky. He doesn’t know if Bucky has any friends (besides Clint and Nat), he doesn’t know what Bucky’s hobbies are (besides drinking himself to sleep), and he doesn’t know if Bucky’s a beach vacation kind of guy or a Disney World vacation kind of guy. Stuff like that matters to Steve. Stupid, inconsequential things. Bucky’s always asking and figuring Steve out, but Bucky never returns his own side. And now, now Steve doesn’t know if he’d ruined everything last night by talking about Brock.

He shouldn’t have.

Steve kisses Bucky’s knee, looking up for any small smile that things might be okay. Bucky’s gaze flicks down. He pets Steve once on the head and then gently pushes him away. Sighing, Steve backs up, still on his knees. He’s desperate. He’d give his left leg if that meant Bucky would stay home today and watch stupid Disney movies with him and put him in a cock cage. He’d do anything Bucky wanted. _Anything_. Steve doesn’t even care about his own limits. He just wants Bucky to stop being so cold. It hits Steve hard, over and over and he’s not sure he can keep getting back up.

This is why he’d guarded his heart. Why is Brock always right? Even now. People don’t want damaged goods.

“I need you to stay inside, okay? We can’t have you gettin’ attacked again or something.” Bucky walks over into the bedroom. He begins pulling out his suit for the day, deciding on whether to wear the red or plum tie. “Foggy n’ Matt need me to go see Stark apparently. I don’t know. They weren’t detailed.”

Steve leans on the bedroom doorframe, arms crossed. “The plum one’s nice,” Steve says.

“Oh,” Bucky looks to it, “okay yeah.” He drops the red one and goes in front of the mirror. “I’ll leave some money for lunch. You can order whatever you want. I don’t know how long today will be, so I’ll leave some extra if I’m out past dinner.”

“So long?” Steve’s voice wavers. “But I was—”

“It’s necessary, Steve.” Bucky comes over, taking Steve’s hands. “This is how we save you. Us, even.”

“There’s still an us?” Steve’s not blind to the way Bucky looks away, like he’s hiding a secret. Steve wants to eat his hands off now. He’d ruined everything. He’d managed to get a good, well-meaning man and instead he pushed him away.

“Yes there’s still an us, Kitten.”

The word makes Steve melt. He whimpers, tears slipping from his eyes. He hates how wound up he is. He hates the anguish that berates his heart. Bucky pulls him close, kissing the tip of his nose and then his mouth. Steve mewls into the kiss, pushing his hips against Bucky’s. Bucky doesn’t pull away. His hands slink to Steve’s ass and he squeezes.

“Buck—” breathless, Steve opens his eyes, staring into icy grays, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky smiles, though it’s sad and makes him look older than his years. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I should’ve kept my trap shut.”

“No.” Bucky grabs Steve’s chin with his fingers. “You trusted me. I’m the asshole here.”

“Why? Why’re you the asshole? Please, _please_ , I need to understand.”

“I wanna talk to you. But we can’t right now. This meeting is so—so unbelievably important to our success. It can literally save our—my life.”

“Our.” Steve’s no dummy. Bucky’s been hiding a lot from him as of late. Steve didn’t get to be a captain in the army on dumb luck. Steve’s sharp as a tack and he knows it. And it’s high time he starts _using_ it. He’s been scared, tired and quite frankly, rather distracted by Bucky and what they’ve created. But it’s time that ends now. Steve needs to protect himself. In the end, that’s all he’s got. He’s not even sure if Bucky wants to be around him anymore.

“I said we need to talk, Steve. Right now’s not good.”

“You can be late.” Steve squeezes Bucky’s wrist as he tries to walk by him. Bucky looks to his wrist and then up to Steve’s face. Mortified, Steve drops Bucky’s wrist and crosses his arms. “S-sorry.”

Bucky leans in, kisses Steve’s cheek and then he’s moving further and further away. Further than Steve can handle. Once he’s gone, Steve spends a gratuitous amount of time standing where Bucky left him. He looks to his hands, astonished. He’d reached out and snatched Bucky’s arm. That very behavior had been something he’d been so afraid of once. Steve wrings his hands, biting his lip. He wants Sam. He moves to his phone, calling but gets no response. He looks to his hands again, shocked.

Had it been fear in Bucky’s eyes? Or just surprise? Steve now can’t remember, so his mind fills in the blanks.

* * *

“What the _fuck_ are you doin’ here?” Bucky wants to scream the words, but instead it’s a steady growl. He’s tired already, exhausted from the emotions that have plagued him all night and this morning. Steve needed him, and he’d abandoned his duty. But if he’d stayed, he would’ve abandoned his _other_ duty to Steve. This is why people don’t get into relationships with clients, because _shit_ like this creates conflicts of interest and Bucky can’t be in two places at once.

Peter shrugs. He looks around the busy street, then up at the shiny building. “Stark, huh? He a client of yours?”

Bucky bristles, prepared to try say something to make him scamper off when Matt and Foggy join them. They each take a side of Peter.

“Mornin’,” Foggy says. “You Peter?”

“He was just leaving,” Bucky says.

“Why does he know I’m Peter?” Peter looks smug. The kid’s too smart for his years. Bucky wants to be angry, but honestly, he’s not.

“Just come in.” Bucky pulls Peter by the hood of his jacket and the group makes their way into the busy Stark Industries building and up to the front desk. They’re shuffled from the main floor to the executive level. Bucky tries not to be impressed, but the building is an engineer’s wet dream. Fountains line the walls (renewable energy their guide says), the windows are weather resistant and keep out the sun enough to keep the place at a constant room temperature, and the elevators actually move with efficiency _and_ go horizontal. Peter has more fun than Bucky could’ve expected. He talks excitedly to the guide, asking about the specs of the place and how much water it takes to keep the power on.

“So he wants to meet me?” Bucky whispers to Foggy, “and why couldn’t you have told me this instead of me having to come _with_ you?” He thinks to Steve, wondering how he’s doing. He hates that instead of just being filled in, he’s now being jerked around like some kind of doll.

“You’re Steve’s attorney,” Matt says.

“How’d you—I whispered that!”

“It wasn’t very quiet.” Matt smiles.

“He’s creepy sometimes.” The absolute normalcy of Foggy’s tone almost makes Bucky laugh.

Peter stops walking in front of two glass doors. He reaches out and touches one. It glows red. “Woah!”

“Mr. Stark is still in his previous meeting.” The guide puts her hands behind her back. “The doors signal whether he’s available or not.”

“Does it sync to a calendar?” Peter asks, but Bucky doesn’t wait to hear the answer. He moves over to a statue of some kind of creepy Greek god or something. It’s got claws for hands. He grimaces, wondering why absurdly rich people have such weird taste.

“Hello, hello, hello!” a voice greets. Bucky turns to see Tony Stark shaking everyone’s hands. His goatee is impeccably kept, his hair slicked back and parted. He smiles bright, turning to Peter and shaking his hand as well. Bucky instantly thinks the man’s a nice guy, even if he has weird art.

“Thanks Maria,” Tony says. “I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Sure will. I’ll kick your ass at racquetball.”

Tony puts his hand over his heart, and clicks his tongue. He turns to Bucky, reaching his hand out. “Man of the hour.”

“That’s my client,” Bucky says, “and that hour’s running out.”

“I heard. Ya know, clever how you dug up all that contract and shareholder business about me. I was honestly terrified until I saw these two.” He points to Matt and Foggy. Foggy looks scandalized, but Matt just keeps his smirk in place.

“They’re good like that,” Bucky answers. They come into the meeting room. It’s plain, at least in comparison to the rest of the building, more _normal_ high-rise meeting room and less is-the-floor-going-to-magically-start-floating.

“So Oscorp wants your client dead and you think I can do what, exactly? I’m no attorney.” Tony sits down at the head of the table, resting his chin on his palm.

“He’s being framed. The autopsy report is fabricated. The cops are bought. I don’t even know if the judge is clean or not. And the media is—I tried to get an injunction but they’re just shifting the subject to Harry and his friends instead of the dirt they can find on Steve. A week ago, I was _followed_ and this kid,” Bucky points to Peter, “his aunt is held hostage so he won’t come forward with what happened.”

“What happened?” Tony asks.

“I—” Bucky begins, but before he can get anymore out, Tony puts his hand up.

“I asked him.” Tony points to Peter.

Peter looks to Bucky, waiting for permission. Bucky nods, sitting back in his chair. Comfy and leather. Bucky’s not displeased about that at all.

“I was friends with Harry. He did a lot of really fucked up shit. Got angry. Cops’ve hid a lot about him. He had a fight with Gwen and started tearing her clothes off and, Flash tried to step in but—.”

“You did nothing?”

“He’s a kid!” Bucky says before he even realizes what’s out of his mouth. He looks to Peter, remembering that he’s the same age as Harry. Dumb college kids, but still capable of murder, rape and worst of all—complacency. Bucky closes his mouth, sitting back again.

“No. I’m sorry, I was scared.”

“It’s okay,” Tony says, “so what happened?”

“Steve came out after Harry already killed Eddie. He was hurtin’ Flash and that’s when Steve jumped in. He’s innocent. He’s entirely innocent and Oscorp is trying to bury him so their company doesn’t get tainted over this. The cops had gotten there, but—one of ‘em missed Steve and injected somethin’ into Harry and Steve’s weight probably did end up cracking Harry’s skull but—Steve didn’t mean to.”

“And your aunt? Where is she?” Tony asks.

“I dunno. Norman lets me talk to her sometimes, but—no idea.”

“And what do you all need from me?” Tony looks around the room, his brown eyes leveling each and every person. Bucky doesn’t know why, but he trusts Tony already. There’s a severity in his gaze, a genuine desire to help them, he just doesn’t know how yet.

“Protection. Peter needs a safe place to stay. So does—so does Steve. If I’m bein’ followed, I can’t have Steve around.”

“Are these your backups if you die?” Tony points to Foggy and Matt.

“Yeah—actually yeah.” Bucky wonders if he should write a will. He still doesn’t have one. If he dies intestate, his stuff just goes to his parents anyway. He wonders if maybe he should leave some things for his sisters. Becca always did like his record collection.

“So I protect Steve Rogers and not you?”

Bucky shrugs. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed but, I don’t know how it’s really gonna work out. Peter’s gonna be submitted as an anonymous witness, and when that happens, we need to make sure he’s safe as possible. I’m talkin’ people outside his house or a secret cell phone. His house is bugged and he’s usually watched.”

“Yeah, it took me about thirty minutes to lose my guys this morning. I know they know something’s up.” Peter purses his lips. He stares at the table, the severity of the situation sinking in probably. “Norman drops by to check on me sometimes too.”

“Okay, so maybe random vacation to the Hamptons then. And Steve?”

“Steve has to stay close but, you could put him in any property you own. No one’s following him to my knowledge. Just me and Peter.”

“And you two?” Tony points at Foggy and Matt.

“We’re good, we think.” Foggy looks to Matt for any indication.

“We’re fine,” Matt says. The smile he sports makes Bucky’s stomach clench. There’s always been something _different_ about Matt. And it’s not that he’s blind. Bucky wonders sometimes how blind. He does things that often startle Bucky, or he knows things he shouldn’t be able to know for a man with total blindness. He’s also built. Which, that’s rude, blind people can be built. Bucky doesn’t know what he’s going on about in his head anymore. Matt’s just a character.

“Bring Steve to this address. You have a girlfriend? Boyfriend?”

Bucky’s heart lunges into his throat, but he notices Tony isn’t talking to him anymore. He’s talking to Peter.

“Uh, no?” Peter’s voice cracks.

“Which do you prefer?”

“Uh—I—I uh—”

“Boyfriend it is then! I’ll introduce you to Wade Wilson. He’s one of my—well he tests machinery for me that most people are too stupid to test out. Figure he’s up for the job—potential dying and all. He’s good at not caring about that.”

“I—” Peter grows three shades of red and then Bucky’s laughing.

It feels nice to laugh, after so much tension. Bucky’s chest finally gets the pressure out of it and his jaw relaxes into the smile. Matt and Foggy take a moment, both looking at Bucky like he’s sprouted a third head. Then Matt chuckles.

Bucky points to Peter, still smiling. “You like guys?”

“I swear, if you spout some phobic shi—”

“He’s gay!” Foggy laughs out. “Wow there are so many gay people in my life and I love it!”

That makes Matt choke on his bottle of water.

“I feel like I knew this,” Peter says, blinking. His eyes go visibly glossy as he wracks his brain. Bucky lets him figure it out himself.

“You could be like, gay big and little. Like sororities!” Foggy looks absolutely pleased with himself.

“That’s an actual thing, Foggy,” Matt says, “and isn’t a joke.”

“Well I didn’t mean it as a joke. I think it’s a great idea.”

“Anyway,” Tony stands from his chair, “I’ll get Wade. He’ll drive _you_ home, Peter. I don’t want you taking public transit right now till I’ve got you set up. When you wanna hand off Steve to me?”

Bucky’s heart breaks just a little. But this is a place where he can’t follow. He thinks about his apartment and how he used to feel it was best quiet and just him inside. Now, he’s going to miss having a blond to come home to each day. And he won’t always be there when Steve needs him now—for not just attorney things—Dom things. _Boyfriend things_. Bucky bites his lip.

“Give me a couple days. We start evidentiary proceedings soon. I need some more time with Steve to prepare him.”

“Why’re you helping us though?” Peter asks. “I mean, I like that you are, but why?”

“Because bad guys shouldn’t rule the world. Simple as that.” Tony shrugs, deciding now is the best time to look at his cuticles than meet Peter’s eyes.

Peter nods, satisfied.

Bucky takes the address from Tony, shaking his hand. He hears something distantly about going out to lunch but now Bucky doesn’t want to waste another precious moment without Steve. He departs from Matt and Foggy and does his best to get home without being followed. He isn’t sure if he’s followed or not, but he feels like everyone’s a threat. He nearly has a panic attack in the subway when someone rounds a corner and smacks into him. But then he’s home and he’s opening the door…

And Steve’s not there.

* * *

Steve shivers. His hoodie isn’t keeping him warm and the more the sun goes down, the easier it is to see his breath. He gives up sketching. His fingers are far too numb to keep going. He brings them up to his mouth and tries to puff some warm air into the nerves. People don’t pay one lick of attention to him, and that’s honestly a nice reprieve. Even with Bucky, sometimes the intensity of the focus constantly on him can get to him. He knows Bucky only has his best interest at heart. As both Steve’s attorney and his boyfriend—Bucky has a lot of pressure on him.

Steve pouts, staring down at the drawing he’d done. It’s horrible and all he wants to do is rip it to shreds. He pulls it out of his sketchbook, staring at the detail work on the tree, the bodies that move through the park. He crumples it up. He’ll shred it later.

Right now, it’s just best that he keeps his distance from Bucky for a little. They’ve been cooped up, flying into a relationship they probably should’ve have. Bucky clearly regrets it—or Steve thinks so. Things had been so awkward that morning. And Steve had _grabbed_ Bucky. That was a line crossed that Steve wishes he could travel back in time and change. Too late. Steve stares at his hand. He’d thought these hands had murdered people once. What’s their full potential? If Steve will grab Bucky, what’s to stop him from strangling him in his sleep?

Steve bites his lip. He wipes at his eyes and tries to focus on the cold. His nose is almost numb. With the sun almost gone, it’s probably best that Steve starts making his way back. He stands up, gathering his materials.

Walking along the streets, he’s got his hood up and his gaze glued to the ground. People don’t bother him, and he counts that as a blessing. It’s been so long since he could just blend into the background and disappear. Steve doesn’t feel like going home just yet, so he turns into a bar and grabs a seat at the end of the counter. The bartender looks at him, but makes no indication that he’ll be getting down to Steve any time soon. Steve doesn’t mind. It gives him time to look around.

There’s a large group over by the billiards and the pool table. The room smells of beer. Steve looks up at the TV and cringes. They’re talking about his case. Since the gag order went out, they don’t slander Steve’s anymore, but they sure find clever ways to make him look like a piece of garbage. There’s some big shindig over at NYU tonight for Harry—except it’s not about Harry, not really. It’s one of those _awareness_ vigils. Tonight it’s about street violence. Steve rolls his eyes. If those people could just open their eyes and realize Harry was the monster.

“You gonna creep on my bar all night or are you gonna order something?”

Steve blinks, startled by the bar tender’s deep voice. He looks up, scanning above the bartender’s head at what’s on the shelves.

The bartender crosses his large arms, bald head tilting to the side, brow cocked in silence, but patient judgment.

“Just a rum and coke.”

The bartender goes about mixing the drink, sets a tiny napkin in front of Steve, looks up at the television and then back at Steve again. Steve’s stomach drops. The bartender puts the drink in front of Steve.

“Enjoy it,” is all he says before turning back to his other patrons.

Steve watches after him, looking at the way he moves behind the bar. Steve thinks he figured out who Steve was from the way he’d looked to the TV and then back to Steve, but maybe that had all been Steve’s imagination. When the man doesn’t look Steve’s way again, Steve decides he probably needs to stop staring. The last thing he needs is a pissed off bartender. Steve really doesn’t want the media making up some convoluted story about how Steve’s a crazed murderer out to start shit at a ton of bars.

He drinks his rum and coke, listening to the news. There’s been some gang activity in Hell’s Kitchen, but some masked guy’s been kicking ass. Steve thinks this’ll become the next big thing. A real-life vigilante sounds cooler than some Army vet in a murder trial. New York is never dull.

“Big city and yet a small world.”

Steve turns to the sound of a woman’s voice. He stares at the prosecutor—Jen Walters. Steve slips from the stool, prepared to abandon the place when Jen puts a hand in the crook of his arm. He looks down at her green lacquered nails and back up at her face. She wears a lot of green. It looks good on her.

“Relax. We won’t talk about the case. That’s—not allowed—anyway.”

“Then what would you and I have to talk about?” Steve frowns, his eyes searching hers for some kind of twisted ulterior motive. He remembers the deposition. She’d torn him a new one. He knows it’s her job, but Steve hasn’t quite forgiven her for it yet.

Jen slips into a barstool. She waves at the bartender and he waves back. He comes over instantly. His demeanor is friendlier now. He leans forward, a smile on his lips.

“Haven’t seen you in a hard minute.”

“Yeah well—this place is a dump. You really do let just anyone in.” She looks at Steve, smirking. Steve doesn’t smile. It’s not funny to him.

The bartender looks Steve’s way, nods slowly. “Way I see it, he’s innocent until proven guilty.”

“How noble of you, Luke. I’ll take a dry martini. Extra olives.”

The bartender—Luke—nods and goes about his job. Steve stares at Jen. He should leave. He really should. Something about this though feels like he should stay. Steve’s a God-fearing man and sometimes the Lord doesn’t just send gentle hints, He hits you with a freight train. Tonight, this is Steve’s freight train. Steve sits his ass back in his stool and thrums along his half-empty drink glass.

Luke comes back over, gives Jen her martini. He points to Steve’s drink. “Top it off?”

“Sure,” Steve says.

Jen nurses her drink, looking up at the TV. She turns back to Steve, drink in her lap. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

“Bucky?”

“Thought we weren’t gonna talk about the case?”

“This isn’t me asking about your case, Steve. I’m asking about my _friend_.”

“Friend? Bucky?”

Jen sighs, taking a sip of her drink. She traces its rim with her finger. Something about her demeanor is on edge tonight. She’s not entirely put together and as powerful as she usually seems. Or maybe the glamor doesn’t effect Steve when she’s not in a suit in a courtroom.

“I do consider him my friend, yes.”

“He’s just fine.”

“Do you still live with him?”

Steve presses his palms to the bar. “I feel like I’m in an interrogation.”

“Look—I don’t know what brought you here, but I come here when I need to feel safe. Now keep your voice down, don’t get self-righteous and answer my fucking question.”

Steve notices the way Luke keeps looking over, but he keeps his distance. Sighing, Steve scratches at his chin and huddles a little closer to Jen. With everything that’s been happening, with the power Jen has, Steve had every reason to believe she’s  the bad guy. Now though, the way she keeps looking over her shoulder, Steve’s not so sure.

“Buck’s fine.”

“And you?”

“Handling it.”

Jen sips her martini, nodding. They slip into a silence that Steve doesn’t know will end or not. But Jen keeps looking over to Luke, who keeps looking to her, and then they _both_ start looking over their shoulders. Steve feels caged in.

“What’s goin’ on, Jen?”

“You know you’re in danger, right? Bucky’s good—so he’s had to have figured that out by now.” And this is the freight train Steve was so sure God was throwing his way. “Don’t answer me, just nod.”

Steve does.

Jen runs her fingers through her wavy hair. It’s not nearly as neat and in place as it normally is. Steve then notices the chips in her nail polish, the bruise on her wrist.

“Who hurt you?”

“ _Keep your voice down_ ,” she practically hisses. Jen grips the bar, and Luke from a few yards away flares his eyes, but he keeps away, still watching.

“If Bucky doesn’t find a way to save you, Steve, Oscorp will _bury_ you—and I don’t just mean your prison sentence. _Bury_ you.”

Steve licks his lips. He’s always suspected. The way Bucky behaved after the day he started to put everything together. He started looking at Steve like it was the last time he ever would. Steve tried to think it was just because Bucky was being watched, but Steve’s not an idiot. Steve’s life is just as in danger, and while he knows he’s known this for some time, hearing from Jen the truth makes Steve’s heart scramble up into his throat.

He reaches for his drink, throwing it back. Luke comes back over and tops it off without Steve prompting him. Then he’s silently gone away again, getting into a conversation with a rowdy group on the other side of the bar.

“This is a safe place, Steve, but it’s not going to stay that way if we both start coming here. I don’t think they’ve got someone watching you—you never leave Bucky’s apartment. But they have so much against you and they’re prepared to do whatever it takes.”

“What d’you mean?”

Jen looks over her shoulder again when the bell above the door jingles. She growls, slipping from the bar. “Keep your hood up and don’t turn around.”

Steve turns his face to the wall, making sure his hood completely obstructs him. Jen throws some bills on the bar and then she’s gone. Steve wants to turn—he wants to see who made Jen scatter, but he knows if he does, he’ll jeopardize everything Jen just said. This is _her_ safe place, and Steve won’t do anything to ruin that.

Steve pulls out his wallet, tossing his own money down and he heads to the bathroom. He doesn’t know who to avoid, so he just generally keeps his head down. He relaxes when he gets into the bathroom. It’s gross, permanent marker and vulgarity plastered all over. It’s exactly what one would expect in a bar bathroom. Luke comes in not but a minute later, nearly causing Steve to tear out of his own skin.

“Go into the kitchen and leave by the alleyway.”

“Okay—thanks.”

Luke leaves, quick as he came. Steve looks into the mirror, tugging up his hood. He ducks his head as he leaves the bathroom, swinging a right and going into the kitchen. There’re people in there, but none pay Steve any attention. Then he’s out into the night, knowing full well that Bucky’s been keeping secrets from him and that Jen’s in trouble. He looks at the backside of the bar, biting the inside of his cheek. Jen said it’s her safe place. Steve vows to never come back. She needs her safe places. Just as Steve needs his own.

* * *

“Okay—thanks—if you hear anything, just let me know.” Bucky hangs up his—what was it—twentieth? Phone call? He’s about ready to call the police when Steve comes into the apartment. Bucky drops his cell phone, running to Steve. He doesn’t care if they’d left on awkward terms. He doesn’t care that Steve has baggage. He doesn’t _fucking_ care.

Steve hits the wall, but his arms go around Bucky’s neck. Bucky kisses Steve’s face, peppering trails from cheek to cheek and all around his chin. He strokes his fingers through Steve’s short blond strands, choking back sobs. Thinking he lost Steve was worse than thinking about Steve’s ex boyfriend and the things that happened back then. And that’s what Bucky learned tonight, Steve’s ex is in the past. That abuse is in the _past_ , and Bucky is Steve’s future—if Steve’ll have him.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers, “I’m so sorry. I was an ass. I just—you gave me a lot to think about and I acted bad and I was an ass and I love you. I love you—and I know that’s a lot and I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Steve threads his hands into Bucky’s hair, pulling just enough to have Bucky feel the strain. The pain is so good, it sends shivers down Bucky’s spine and he’s growling, scooping Steve’s lips in his own. Their kiss is sloppy, too much breath and not enough actual _kiss_ but Bucky doesn’t care. Steve’s here again. He’s alive, he’s solid and he seems unharmed.

Steve mouths along Bucky’s jaw, giggling, and oh _God_ , it’s the best damn sound Bucky’s ever heard in his life. The heavens could open, pouring down singing angels and Valkyrie women and Steve’s soft, breathless giggle would still be the only music Bucky would ever want to hear. If Bucky could only hear one thing for the rest of his life, he would want it to be that small little giggle.

“It’s okay,” Steve says. He turns his face, making Bucky’s next kiss hit his cheek instead. Bucky grumbles, but noses along Steve’s neck instead. “We have a lot to talk about though.”

Bucky pulls back, but he finds Steve’s hands and laces their fingers together. He doesn’t want to do anything but strip Steve naked and worship his body and thank the fucking stars that Steve’s in his life.

“Okay.”

Steve leads over to the couch. He sits on one end, turning and crossing his legs. He waits while Bucky mirrors his position on the other side of the sofa.

“I ran into Jen tonight at a bar.”

Bucky balks.

“It’s okay!” Steve raises his hands, placating. “We didn’t talk about the case—well—sort of. She called you and her friends, said you’re smart and also that my life’s in danger.”

Bucky winces. The way Steve spits it all out like that. It’s almost like none of it is real. Bucky watches the way Steve’s eyes search him, little blue orbs, shiny from the street lamps outside. Bucky realizes he only has a single lamp on in the room. It’s enough, but it gives the room a sepia tone, like they’re ghosts replaying some kind of moment in their lives and it’s not actually happening at all.

“So—so I know,” Steve looks away, nibbling his bottom lip, “your life is in danger. My life is in danger. Everyone’s in danger. Jen too.”

“What?”

“I think Oscorp is forcing her to be aggressive against me. I mean, I’ve done my own fair share of googling and we haven’t even gotten a plea bargain? Isn’t that kind of standard?”

Bucky smirks. He’d been wondering about that too, but hadn’t had a moment to think about it. He’d been so swept up in the conspiracy of this all—the outrageous tale. Except it’s not a tale. It’s the truth and that’s what’s so horrifying about this. Money can pay off cops, seep into the district attorney’s office, the prosecutor’s office—Bucky still doesn’t know if Judge Jameson is clean or not. At least Stark will pull through. Bucky wonders how Peter liked Wade.

“Bucky—what do we do?”

“Stark’s gonna take care of you and Peter. I’ve gotta—shit.”

“You’ve gotta shit?”

Bucky almost laughs. Steve’s brow is cocked, there’s a twitch of a smile on his face. Bucky wants to run with the joke but he can’t. Preliminary hearings start soon. This is all really happening and all the evidence is slowly being finalized. Bucky’s file is getting larger and larger, but all the evidence points to Steve being guilty unless Bucky can find a way to impeach the lab tech who did the autopsy.

“I mean, no, not that. I mean that I’ve gotta stay here. You’ve gotta leave.”

“What? No! Fuck no!”

“Steve, Steve please—we need to protect you.”

“You need protection too, Bucky! Fuck, you need it more than me! They need me dead once in prison, not now before the trial! I _know_ this! I ain’t dumb!” Steve jumps off the couch, moving over to the windows. He leans against them, staring out into the darkness. Bucky can see his reflecting a little in the yellow glow of the solo lamp.

“I know, Steve.” Bucky stands up. He moves behind Steve, hugging him from behind. He kisses Steve on the cheek a few times, then nibbles on his ear. Steve leans back, looking up into Bucky’s eyes.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Steve reaches up, cupping Bucky’s bristly jaw. “I’m—I’m fallin’ in love, Buck.”

The words melt Bucky’s heart. He turns his face, kissing Steve’s palm. Closing his eyes, he breathes Steve in, wishing they’d met at a party or a bar. He wishes he’d gotten to court Steve the proper way.

“I can’t protect us both, Steve. Not when I’ve gotta watch out for my own life. It’s just easier this way.”

“But then we’ll be apart.”

“I know.” Bucky turns Steve in his arms. He grabs Steve’s waist, feeling his hip bones with his thumbs. “I don’t wanna do this.”

“Then we don’t.”

“Steve, we’re close to royally fucking them over. I’ve just gotta figure out if Jameson is bought and if he’s not, I’m going to try to talk to him—privately. That’s a big, big risk.”

“Why?”

“Because usually you can’t meet with a judge without the other counsel present. But if Jen’s also fearing for her life, then maybe her going with me would be okay. We just need to make sure everyone stays protected and there’s enough evidence to bring down Oscorp.”

“There _is_ enough evidence, Buck. You’ve dug it all up.” Steve trails his hands down Bucky’s chest, staring. “You’re amazing.”

Bucky kisses Steve soft. He lets their lips linger together for a moment, memorizing the silk of Steve’s lips and the warmth that radiates between them. “Everything is about to go horribly wrong, and I can’t have Oscorp near you. So you’ll stay with Stark—or—wherever he puts you. He gave me an address today.”

“It’s better if you get protection too.”

“It’s better if I stay here. Oscorp can’t know, Steve. They’ve got Peter’s aunt. They’ve got cops and prosecutors. They’re not gonna get us, but we _have_ to play by their rules, at least until we don’t.”

“And when’s that?” Steve sets his jaw. He wants to look miffed, but Bucky can see through it. He’s anxious, yes, but also excited. It’s been a long time since Bucky spoke like they had any control over the situation. For once, with Stark’s protection, there is some control. Bucky can make sure no one dies because of him. That in itself is a fucking miracle at this point.

“After I figure out if Jameson is bought or not.”

“And if he is?”

“If he is then we have to play this in a courtroom. If he’s not, then maybe he’ll listen to me. I’d like to talk to Jen now too. I think it’d be easy to call her about a plea bargain. Since ya know, we’re both being followed.”

“Yeah—God—she was terrified tonight. I’ve never seen her look like she didn’t have the world under control.”

“It’s an act, Steve. Attorneys are actors, our stage is just a courtroom.” Bucky pulls Steve away from the window, walking back over to the couch. He lies down, pulling Steve atop him. Steve straddles him, purring like the beautiful kitten he is.

“You still haven’t gotten me a collar.”

“I know.” Bucky runs his fingers up and down Steve’s torso, he slips his fingers beneath Steve’s shirt, tracing along the muscles and finding nipples to twist lightly. “I’ve been a bad Dom.”

Steve pouts, nodding.

“Can I make it up to you, Kitten? What do you need?”

Steve drops his head back, exhaling deeply. “A blow job?”

Bucky laughs. “That it?” He slips Steve’s shirt up to the collar bone and kisses between Steve’s pretty pecs. _Tits_. Bucky wants to squeeze them, suck the nipple into his mouth until Steve’s whimpering. He smirks. That’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“I think so? I don’t want anything hard right now.”

Bucky runs his hands up Steve’s chest, squeezing them and making them look like proper breasts by pushing them together. “You’d look so pretty in a corset.” He traces a finger down the cleavage, his gaze focused there, picturing Steve all bound up in pretty frills. He looks up and Steve’s mouth is agape, eyes swallowed by black. “You’d like that?”

“If it’s you lacin’ me in.”

Bucky smiles before leaning down and kissing along Steve’s sternum. He flicks a tongue over a nipple before latching on and sucking as hard as he can. Steve’s arms go around him, holding him there. Bucky closes his eyes, focused on swirling his tongue along the nub, waiting patiently for Steve’s vocal chords to give him what he wants. He trails a hand down Steve’s torso, feather-light touches over sculpted abs.

“Ah—B-Bucky—Sir!”

Bucky lets go, pulling back. He flicks at Steve’s other nipple before grabbing it. He twists enough for Steve to yelp in pain and then places a soft kiss over it. “So just a blow job?” He licks Steve’s nipple again for emphasis. “Nothin’ else?”

“I—I don’t—know.”

Bucky gets between Steve’s legs, biting his lip and caressing strong, trembling thighs. “I can do a lot more with my mouth than suckin’, Steve. Whatever you want.”

“Honestly? I just want you to blow me, carry me to the bedroom and then have perfect vanilla sex with me. With candles. Maybe some wax. Oh! Wax is good. Do you have wax?”

Bucky laughs. “I’ve got wax, Kitten.” He slips Steve’s cock out, pumping it a few times with his hand. He loves watching Steve’s uncut dick move with his hand, the foreskin ebbing and flowing over that pretty tip. Bucky places a kiss there and Steve gasps, body tensing. “Relax, Kitten. I want you to feel so good you forget your name.”

“That’s—not gonna be hard, Sir.” Steve grabs the sofa, his fingers trembling and scratching along the fabric.

Bucky turns his focus back to Steve’s cock. He mouths along the underside, his gaze watching the way Steve’s mouth drops open and his chest keeps heaving. God, Bucky wants to know the thousands and thousands of events that made Steve Rogers. His perfect freckles, his pale skin that flushes so easily. He wants to know who made Steve’s hands and his slightly crooked nose. He wants to thank Steve’s ancestors, each and every one of them.

He scoops Steve’s tip into his mouth, sucking soft. He keeps flicking his gaze up to Steve, a private check-in. Steve’s still heaving, but his hands aren’t pulling at the sofa anymore. Bucky calls that a win. he wants Steve to relax. He slips his tongue over the tip, focusing on the little slit. He drags his tongue down along the side and then sucks a ball into his mouth. Steve shoots forward, gasping. His eyes are wide and for a moment Bucky thinks he’s hurt him. He sits back, their expressions both wide and acutely aware of each other.

“You okay?”

“What?”

“Are you okay, Steve?”

“Oh—yeah—that was—do it again.”

Bucky wants to smack him. With his heart now up in his throat, he does what Steve wants. He laves his tongue along Steve’s balls, his hand now pumping at the cock. Steve’s a mess of whines and heavy breathing. His thighs tremble around Bucky when Bucky pulls back, blowing against Steve’s balls.

“B—I mean—S-sir—please!”

Bucky ignores him. He traces the throbbing veins in Steve’s cock with the pads of his fingers. Steve thrusts, but Bucky’s ministrations are too light. It’s useless. He takes Steve’s cock into his mouth slowly, holding it and letting Steve become far too anxious that he’s trying to rock into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky holds his hips down.

“Nn-nn,” is all Bucky can say with his mouth full of cock. He’s pretty sure Steve gets the message because he stops moving. Bucky closes his eyes, letting his tongue slip back and forth under Steve’s cock. Steve whines out, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth. Bucky looks up, watching the way he starts biting his fingers. _Good_.

Bucky massages his fingers along Steve’s balls. He works up a nice pace, rocking back and forth on his knees. He sucks harder at the tip, tasting the satly precome and enjoying the way Steve’s still moaning around his fingers. With Bucky’s other hand, he reaches it up and Steve lets go of his own fingers and latches onto Bucky’s. He sucks eagerly, his whines now little happy sounds. Bucky pulls his fingers out, tracing saliva all around Steve’s lips.

“You look beautiful like this,” Bucky says when he drops Steve’s cock from his mouth.

Steve doesn’t respond. He just stares with eyes swallowed with dilated pupils. His mouth is swollen and quivering. Bucky puts his fingers back in Steve’s mouth. He watches the way Steve’s shoulders relax and his eyes close, heavy lashes lining his cheeks.

Bucky sucks Steve’s cock harder now, intent no longer to play but to finish. He squeezes Steve’s balls, coaxing them to come. Steve doesn’t last long after that. His trembling body seizes and hot come pulses out onto Bucky’s tongue. He swallows it, relaxing his throat to let Steve come into him more, tip pushing against the back of Bucky’s throat.

Bucky holds Steve in his mouth until he starts to go soft, still massaging his balls. He’s long since pulled his fingers away and listens to Steve’s heaving breaths. With eyes open, Bucky watches the way Steve’s torso clenches with each breath, abs and pecs flexing to cast stark shadows across them. If Bucky could draw, he’d draw this.

He drops Steve’s cock, gently placing it against Steve’s thigh before standing. “You good?”

Steve just nods.

Bucky pulls Steve into his arms. Steve’s legs go around Bucky’s torso and they’re kissing. Bucky walks slowly into the bedroom, their lips never leaving each other’s. He sets Steve down and carefully begins undressing him. Slipping clothing off Steve is like revealing a most coveted present. Bucky feels tingling in his fingertips, his heart quickening. He kisses Steve’s shoulders when he slips the shirt over Steve’s head and tosses it to the floor. Steve can barely keep his eyes open. Bucky knows he’s somewhere far, far away, but that’s okay. That’s where Bucky wants him.

Once he’s naked, Bucky whispers, “I’ll be right back.” He quickly goes into the playroom and to one of the workbenches. He pulls out a few candles that’re safe for wax play and returns to the bedroom.

Steve’s right where Bucky left him, still that same floating expression.

Bucky lights a candle, letting it be the only light in the room besides the window. He comes closer and pushes Steve flat on the bed. He straddles his baby, watching for any sign of distress. While the mind may be away, the body will always tell if there’s something wrong. Muscles jerk, skin quivers. It’s a Dom’s duty to watch for the body’s cues when the person can’t express discomfort.

Bucky lets a few drips fall to Steve’s sternum. Steve hums, rocking his hips. Bucky bites his lip, an idea blossoming in his mind. He doesn’t really bottom much, but with Steve he really doesn’t want to miss out on anything.

“Steve?” Bucky taps his index finger on Steve’s cheek in the hopes of pulling him back. He won’t do anything that Steve doesn’t expressly consent to.

“Hmm?”

“You there?”

“M’now.” Steve blinks a few times, his eyes focusing on Bucky and the candle. “That feels so good.”

“Do you wanna fuck me?”

“What?” Steve tries to sit up, but Bucky uses a hand to keep him pressed down.

“I guess that’s a no.”

“N-no! I mean, yes. Wait. Words are hard.”

Bucky laughs. He drips the wax over Steve’s shoulders and the hollow of his throat.

“Oh God,” Steve’s eyes flutter closed, “yes I wanna fuck you.”

“I’ll ride you. We’ll keep a pace like this, okay? Just wax and whatever instructions I give you.”

“Mmmm,” is Steve’s only response.

Bucky takes Steve’s hand and puts the candle in it. “Don’t you dare drop this.”

Steve doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t move either. Bucky strips quickly, no sense in trying to do a strip tease to a man wavering in and out of subspace. He grabs lube and a condom before coming back over and hovering over Steve. He takes the candle from Steve’s hand. “Keep your hand out like that.” He dips the candle and allows red droplets to fall to Steve’s abs. He likes the way Steve’s body clenches when the drops hit skin. They cool, forming little circles.

Bucky puts the candle back in Steve’s hand and squirts lube onto his hand. He bites his lip before circling two fingers around his own rim. Steve’s eyes are hooded, his face barely visible in the darkness minus the candle. Bucky knows he’s watching though. Bucky lets his face go slack, but he can’t stop biting his own lip. He pushes his fingers inside himself, inhaling sharply. It doesn’t hurt, but it reminds him that he does actually enjoy the sensation. Actual full-blown penetration isn’t really Bucky’s favorite thing, but he likes giving pleasure to others and fucking a tight hole feels good. Bucky _is_ a tight hole.

He works himself open more, scissoring his fingers before slipping a third finger inside. He cringes when a nail scrapes his rim. Angles are hard. Bucky pulls his fingers out and takes the condom. He opens it up, slipping it slowly down Steve’s dick. He smiles, proud that his baby’s already hard. He wonders if it was the wax or Bucky’s little show.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

Steve just lets out a nondescript sound. Bucky takes that as a yes. He aligns Steve’s cock with his hole, careful to slowly move down. Steve’s large and Bucky’s not the most experienced at bottoming. He knows what to do from his teaching and the fact that to be a good top, you need to know how to bottom. But that doesn’t mean the sensation is one that Bucky’s used to. He gasps when Steve’s head enters him. The lube helps facilitate it with ease and Bucky shivers. He likes this part.

Steve pushes his head back into the bed, moaning.

“Don’t drop the candle, Steve,” Bucky says quickly. “Be a good boy for me.”

“Be a good—boy,” Steve echoes. Bucky smiles. He takes the candle and lets a few drops down his own body. He’s a fan of wax too. The bite of the heat hits him and quickly begins to cool. He puts the candle back in Steve’s hand and turns his attention back to riding Steve.

He lets his thighs spread slow, letting gravity do the work. Hands play on Steve’s chest, feeling deep, even breaths. Bucky drops his head, breathing hard. His muscles squirm and clench around Steve’s cock. Steve pushes up with his hips and Bucky sees white for a moment.

“E-easy, Kitten,” Bucky says, “gotta do me slow.”

Steve’s response is a whine, but his hips stop moving.

Bucky lets himself bottom out, his insides unsure if they want to cramp or relax. It’s a mix of almost-cramping and the sensation of being stretched and full. He rocks his hips slow, exploring the way Steve’s cock slips in and out of him. Bucky takes the candle and aims for one of Steve’s nipples.

“Ah! Ah—fuck!” Steve bites his lip, letting out a long whine. He shivers when Bucky lets the wax drip along his sternum and over to the other nipple. “M-more, fuck, oh fuck.”

Bucky rocks slow. He lets the wax drip when it warms enough, letting it fall where it may. Steve’s trembling, his hips slowly moving with Bucky’s now. Riding Steve is easy like this. Bucky’s body melts into the sensation in his ass. Steve’s cock rests on his prostate and Bucky pushes his hips down to let it slide back and forth against it. He shivers, eyes wanting to roll back. But he can’t. He needs to make sure Steve doesn’t fall too far or the wax doesn’t start to actually injure.

He brings the candle close to Steve’s face, the flame flickering in his eyes.

“You like this?”

Steve nods.

“Candle too hot?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Feels good?”

Steve nods again.

Bucky smiles, pulling the flame away. He thrusts nice and slow, intent on taking Steve out to the rim before slowly, _slowly_ taking him in again. Steve’s hands clutch Bucky’s hips, a long moan escaping his lips.

“Shhh, easy Kitten.” Bucky drops the wax over Steve’s tummy. He watches it flex and quiver from the heat. “Should’a got some ice too. That’d would’ve been fun.”

“N-next—next.”

“Yeah—next time.” Bucky thrusts with shorter ministrations, intentionally clamping around Steve. He switches from fast to slow off and on. The candle gets shorter with every passing minute. Steve’s moans and whines fill the room like a private song, his chest heaves and Bucky continues painting pretty little red dots and smears along it.

Bucky could watch Steve like this for days. The way Steve’s tongue flicks out over his bottom lip, the way his chest rises and falls and how his eyes flutter. Bucky’s can feel the heat rising from Steve’s body, both of them hot, but Steve burns with an intensity Bucky’s never felt before. There’s a fire inside Steve, one that Bucky wants to let out one day. It’s stayed quiet and soft until now, but with today’s revelation, Bucky knows how bright it burns. It’s angry, scared and loved all at once. It flickers inside Steve, sometimes Bucky can see it in his eyes. He feels it now, fluttering behind Steve’s sternum.

Bucky counts the freckles on Steve’s face, the one off to the side on his neck. Carefully, he balances the candle in his hand and bends to kiss Steve’s neck. Steve gasps, cock pushing further inside Bucky. It hurts a bit, making him cramp. He doesn’t pull back though. He lets wax dribble down the candle and over his fingers, but he keeps kissing the freckles he finds along Steve’s throat and up his jaw. Steve’s hands stay at Bucky’s hips, but he can feel them tremble.

Bucky’s hair tickles Steve’s face, and neck, making the man shiver. Bucky licks Steve’s earlobe, whispering, “I love you.”

When he pulls back, Steve’s watching him with that distant, slack jawed expression. He’s got the faintest smile on his face though. His fingers dig into Bucky’s hips, pulling him close. Bucky lets him. They thrust into each other quicker, the bed creaking each time. Bucky likes watching Steve’s pecs bounce when he pushes Steve against the bed. The candle is almost out, just a mere few inches now in Bucky’s hand. He turns it sideways and lets it drip over Steve’s throat.

Steve moans.

He moves the candle close to Steve’s nipple, dangerously close to make it burn. Steve’s eyes flare open, locked on Bucky.

“You with me now?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods. “That’s hot.”

“I want you with me when I get you to come. That okay?”

“Yeah, Buck—Sir.”

Bucky smiles. He’ll let it slide. He blows the candle out, it’s nothing more than a nub now anyway. He drops it to the bed and focuses on moving his hip. He grabs Steve’s chest, squeezing the muscles and flicking over the nipple.

Steve arches up, his hips berating into Bucky’s. With this pace, Bucky’s damn sure he’ll have bruises. Steve will too though, and that’s the exciting part. Bucky _loves_ seeing them blossom beneath Steve’s pale skin. He drops his head back, bringing Steve’s hand over his stomach. He lets Steve run his fingers up and down Bucky’s torso. He cups at Bucky’s pecs, drags his fingernails down the middle of his sternum.

Bucky bites his lip, shivering. It’s a gift that he gives, and one he doesn't know if he can give often. It’s uncomfortable to let himself be so vulnerable, but Steve’s feeding off the energy in the room and from what Bucky’s giving him. Doms would die for their subs, and Bucky’s no exception. He’ll put himself in a state of vulnerability like this if it makes Steve happy. From the way Steve’s moving, Bucky knows he’s pretty damn happy.

“S—I’m gonna come—I need” Steve tries to push Bucky off him, but Bucky swats his hands away.

“It’s okay, Steve. You can come like this.”

“I-I can?” He looks up with wild, wide eyes. There’s so much hope in them, reflecting back on Bucky and making him feel like the impossible situation they’ve found themselves in is perfectly normal and better—winnable.

“Come, Kitten,” Bucky says, “come in me. You’ve been so good for me. I wanna give you this. It feels good right? Come, baby boy. Come on, show me how much you like it.”

Encouraged by Bucky, Steve doesn’t last much longer. He cries out, his hips jerking forward and back, pace slower. He’s heaving again, looking up with Bucky with tear-filled eyes. Bucky leans forward, letting their lips intertwine. He holds them there, Steve’s body still jerking, but slower.

“Shh, you’re okay, baby. You did so good for me.” Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair and kisses his forehead. “You liked it? You had fun?”

Steve nods, a tired smile on his face. Bucky hadn’t realized how fast it happened, but Steve had sat up when he came, and his big arms were around Bucky, holding him as close as Bucky held Steve to him. He kissed Steve’s forehead again.

“You didn’t come,” Steve says, his face frowning.

“I’ll take care of it. This wasn’t about me.”

“That’s—Sir—I”

“Shh, words are hard, remember?” Bucky nuzzles Steve’s head, kissing his crown. He strokes his fingers through Steve’s sweaty hair, smiling. He’s so proud of Steve. It bubbles behind his heart, it wafts from his chest up to his eyes. It swirls around Bucky, aura light and warm.

Steve nods, tired eyes fluttering closed. He’ll fall asleep like this if Bucky let him. Bucky takes Steve’s arms from around his waist and puts them to Steve’s sides. He slips off Steve’s dick, wincing as cool air hits his ass. He takes the condom from Steve’s cock and throws it into the garbage.

“Lie back, let’s get you under the covers.”

Bucky ignores the used lube slowly crawling down between his thighs. He tucks Steve in, kisses his forehead and caresses his face. He watches Steve try to fight sleep, looking up at Bucky.

“I don’t wanna leave you,” Steve says. “I hate this.”

“I know. I hate it too.” He trails his fingernails along Steve’s neck where hair meets skin. Steve hums. “But after this is all done and you’re a free man, you and me don’t have to hide. I’ll take you dancin’ and to movies. We’ll go somewhere real nice, like the beach or somethin’.”

“Mmm, I can’t dance.”

Bucky laughs. “I’ll teach you, beautiful.”

“I’ve never—felt as—intense—as I do with you.” Steve tries to open his eyes but it’s a failure. They close almost instantly. “I do love you, I think. I’m just—scared.”

“I swear, Steve, I’d rather die than disappoint you.” He kisses Steve’s forehead. “I love you too.”

Steve smiles before turning over in bed, effectively signaling that he’s ready for sleep. Bucky watches him for a moment, listening to his breathing. He doesn’t like this anymore than Steve. The thought of leaving Steve alone in some kind of apartment or whatever Tony decides to put him in—it drives Bucky mad. But he _has_ to make this sacrifice. It’s for Steve. Attorneys are responsible for protecting their clients interests, lovers are responsible for keeping their partners happy, and Doms? Doms are responsible for their subs’ lives. Bucky won’t let anyone harm a single fucking hair on Steve’s head. He kisses Steve’s shoulder before going to the bathroom to get himself to come and then shower.

It takes hardly any time at all, Bucky’s so full of adrenaline and the memory of Steve’s cock inside him. He thinks of Steve’s pleasure-filled face and that’s it—he’s coming. After, he gets into the shower and scrubs down. Wet, warm, and tired, Bucky pulls on a pair of briefs and slips into the bed. He kisses Steve’s forehead and then sleep takes him almost instantly.

* * *

“And he’ll be safe?” Bucky asks for the sixth time. “I mean, if he needs someone—or if he gets scared?”

“Yes, Barnes. He’ll be fine. He’s with my people _and_ we’ll have Sam check on him every day.” Tony cocks a brow at the way Bucky’s behaving. Bucky’s bouncing on his heels, biting his nails and looking around the overly large loft with wide eyes.

“There’s just so many places for someone to hide.”

“There’s cameras all over.” Tony points to a tiny one on the table, it’s disguised in a flower pot. “I’ve got guards watching around the clock.”

“But what if he wants privacy? I mean, what about the bathroom? He gets nervous when people watch him sketch.”

Tony smiles. “Do you love him or something? I’ve never seen anyone act like you over a client.”

Bucky’s face pales. He wanted to fight back, to snap _of course not, he’s just my client and he’s traumatized_ , but that’s not what happens. Bucky’s throat goes dry and his heart squeezes into his stomach.

“Oh fuck. You do.”

“I—that’s—”

“I was kind of already suspicious but like, yeah, now I get it.” Tony isn’t snarling. He’s not berating Bucky or talking about how horrible this is. He hasn’t even changed posture while standing in the loft. “Don’t freak out. Jesus, you’re sweating.” He pulls out a handkerchief and tosses it at Bucky.

Bucky flails to get it, but it flitters to the floor before he picks it up.

“It’s clean. Have at it.”

Bucky dabs his forehead, clearing his throat. “It’s—no one can know.”

“Know what?” Tony smirks. “Anyway, loft is monitored. Sam will check in daily. You can be free to get ready for all the legal shit you need to do. Peter’s gonna love the Hamptons. Wade’ll stay with him 24/7. They’ve already been getting to know each other. I think they may actually like each other. Like, you and Steve.” He winks.

“Oh fuck off. Just protect Peter and Steve. Peter’s got his aunt’s life on the line. Don’t play with that.”

“That’s why I’ve got Wade with him. Trust me, he couldn’t be in better hands.”

“Okay. I’ll uh—I’ll get Steve. Thanks for being so—uh—not surprised?”

“Bucky—can I call you that?” He waits for Bucky to nod and then continues, “I don’t judge other people. I’ve been judged enough and I know how it feels. I won’t say anything and if you need to come here to be with Steve too—you come here. Okay?”

“But if I’m being foll—”

“I’ll make sure you’re not.”

Bucky smirks, a small puff of air out his nose in response. “You got someone following me too?”

“Not someone. Something. Figured since you’re already being followed that more bodies would just get suspicious. I’ve got a drone up in the air watching you.”

“Wow. Th-thanks.”

“It’s right here,” Tony pulls out his phone and shows Bucky an image, “it’s a direct line to me. It sends me constant updates and will alert me and my staff if you’re in an emergency. I figured no cops for now, so my private security is what you get.”

“This is really kind of you,” Bucky says, “you don’t have to. You don’t even know us.”

“I know Norman. I don’t need more of a reason than that.” He puts the phone away. “Get Steve settled in. I’ll wait down in the lobby.”

They descend the elevator together and find Steve with his little backpack and sketch book. He’s wringing his hands and it breaks Bucky’s heart. He wants to soothe those hands now, kiss them and tell them how perfect they are. Tony pulls out his phone and makes himself busy and Bucky and Steve go back up to the loft.

Once up, Steve takes a few steps and looks around. He drops his stuff by the door and stares at the giant circular window in the center of the loft. “This is amazing.”

“Pretty art deco,” Bucky says.

“I hate it already.”

“What? Why?” Bucky moves in front of Steve, his palms sweaty.

“Because it’s not your cozy Manhattan apartment. There’s no french doors to the bedroom and the kitchen is too big. It can fit two people.”

Bucky smiles. He wraps a hand behind Steve’s skull and brings their foreheads together. They rest like that, breathing each other in. “You’re gonna be safe here.”

“I’m not the one they’re watching. If you die—”

“I’m not gonna. We’re gonna get past this, Steve.” He kisses Steve’s nose. “I promise I’ll get both our freedoms back.”

“I dragged you into this. God.”

“Steve—no you didn’t. Pro bono, remember? I volunteered to you. This is all my choice. All of it.” He kisses Steve on the lips. “And I love you.”

Steve laughs, but his face is tense. He nods, biting his lip. “I—I love you too.”

“Good. Now enjoy this. There’s a guy named Happy that’ll be your bodyguard when you’re out and your driver. He’s nice. I met him briefly.”

“Well, his name is Happy.”

“He doesn’t look Happy,” Bucky says. “You’re gonna be fine here. Sam’ll be home soon and he’ll check on you when I can’t. I’ve gotta get bustin’ on the case and seeing how to talk to Judge Jameson. Maybe meet with Jen.”

Steve’s frowning but he doesn’t protest. He cups Bucky’s face and gives him a quick kiss. “Hurry back. Visit a lot?”

Bucky wants to explain that it’ll be hard to do that when he’s trying to keep this place hidden, but Bucky trusts Stark. He’ll find a way to keep them all safe. Money and morality can take a man far. Bucky read Batman. Bucky laughs to himself, Tony is their real life Batman.

“Of course,” he says, because he needs to protect Steve’s psyche. He can’t let Steve run off like he had the night he got beat up or the other night Bucky had been worried sick. He’s got to stay stable, and that all starts with believing that this is easy. Bucky _will_ come back and visit. He’ll just have to work out how. Steve doesn’t need to know the messy details.

Bucky leaves after kissing Steve so much that his lips are chapped. He feels a weight on his chest, his fingers are screaming for Steve’s skin. It’ll be hard to sleep in the bed alone tonight, but this is all for Steve—and Peter. This is for every person that has ever been fucked over by Oscorp.

Bucky _will_ bring that corporation to its knees. Norman Osborn fucked with the wrong attorney.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> add me on tumblr! [@buckmebxrnes](http://buckmebxrnes.tumblr.com/)  
> or on twitter! [@ghostbuckster](https://twitter.com/ghostbuckster)


	7. Motion for Ex Parte Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Steve and Bucky think things will go their way as they head toward the beginning of the trial, Norman Osborn throws a wrench in their plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter for those who celebrate it! Have some porn! I mean the second to last chapter of IU. :D
> 
> I won't make you all wait that long again for the final chapter. I've actually already begun writing the end so yay! I just needed a break from this story for awhile but now I'm back to see it through!
> 
> **Warning** : This chapter features discussions about death and hypotheticals about whether there's a god or not.

_Sex between a client and lawyer "can pose significant dangers to both the client and the lawyer," Law Professor Earl Dudley said. The client is often the vulnerable person in the relationship and can even personally depend on the lawyer, especially in family law or domestic relations cases. The lawyer "needs a certain amount of emotional distance" to keep his client's interests in mind as well. Lawyers are often seen as takers rather than givers" Phi Delta Phi Executive Director Tim Wheat said. The perception of a lawyer taking advantage of a client through sex only supports that opinion. As a lawyer, "you literally have the power to change someone's life forever," Wheat said, especially in family law cases. "It is incumbent upon the lawyer never to abuse that supreme position."_

_Sexual Ethics Affect Lawyers’ Professionalism, Panel Says, University of Virginia, October 2002._

Bucky wakes up in a cold bed without a warm body next to him. Three days. Three days he hasn’t seen Steve. Each night he’s gone to bed alone. He’s curled up on his side. He’s pulled his pillow to his chest. He’s turned on a white noise maker. Brought out a fan from his basement storage. He’s done everything he can think of to get him to sleep alone. He’s even sprinkled lavender all over the damn bed because he’d read it helped calm people to sleep. He calls bullshit.

“Fuck,” he says to the air because once again, he’s woken up alone. He misses Steve. Longing is a pain Bucky has trouble handling. It’s down in his bones, grinding them against each other until there’s nothing but dust left inside. Bucky can’t find the energy to lean up and face the day. He needs to. He’s got his nice little file full of his discovery and finished interrogatories from the bar this all happened at. He’s got his little elevator speech prepared for Judge Jameson and he’s got Steve and Peter safe in Tony’s care. Everything, for once, seems like it’s going okay.

Now he just needs to talk to Jen and see if she’s okay. If she’s not? Maybe they have a chance to do this before the trial makes a zoo out of New York’s Southern District Court. It’ll be hell getting Steve there amidst all the reporters and the flashing lights. He’d barely been able to handle the reporters outside Bucky’s apartment.

Bucky balls his fists up. He misses Steve.

He rolls out of bed and stumbles round over the wooden floors into the bathroom to piss and brush his teeth. The apartment is so quiet. The soft hum of the fan barely penetrates the bathroom. On instinct, Bucky had closed the door. But no one’s on the other side to know the bathroom is occupied. At least his apartment is small. He can only imagine how Steve feels right now in that big loft. Is he missing Bucky as badly as Bucky is missing him? Bucky hopes not. He wants Steve to feel okay and positive. Bucky can be the wreck. He needs Steve strong through this.

After Bucky’s finished in the bathroom, he goes over to his phone and sees a few texts. Sam’s plane has landed and he’d gone over to Steve’s this morning. Nat is wondering why Clint is suddenly asking her for “Dom stuff.” Clint just said “hey.”

Bucky doesn’t have the energy to respond to any of them. He goes over to the dresser, resigned that he won’t be showering today. He thinks he showered yesterday morning. Truthfully, he’s not really sure. The bathroom just reminds him of Steve and the time he and Natasha had to dunk him in cold water. Or the time where Steve gave Bucky a bubble bath and they sloshed water all over the white tiles.

Bucky pads out into the living room from the French doors Steve had liked so much. He looks around. The flannel is missing. Steve had taken it. There’s no naked sub in the kitchen making Bucky breakfast. There’s no Steve sitting all curled up with a sketch pad. Everything’s too quiet. It hurts Bucky’s ears.

“Fuck.” Bucky pinches his nose, gasping back sobs. He knows this isn’t permanent. He’ll see Steve again. But that doesn’t make any of it easier. He _needs_ Steve. There’s a tether between them now and Bucky’s belly can feel how tight it’s being pulled. They’re too far away.

Bucky pushes his tongue into his cheek, looking over at the windows and wondering if Tony’s drone is somewhere up in the clouds. “I hate this, Stark. And I know I did it.”

Bucky doesn’t want to eat. He doesn’t want to make coffee. He doesn’t want to _be_ here anymore. There’s too much here that reminds him of Steve. He can’t remember the apartment the way it’d been before that big blond entered his life. That perfect, beautiful, scared Steven Rogers. Bucky got to be the hero, but he never got to tell Steve that Bucky had a hero too.

Steve. Steve is Bucky’s hero. It takes courage to face a giant corporation. To know he’ll be killed if this goes south. To know he’s being set up and yet he remains so confident. Steve is the hero of this story. Not Bucky. Bucky’s just the lucky lug that gets to see Steve shine.

Bucky brings his phone up to his face and texts Clint a quick message back. He can’t stay here, so the next best thing is another blond. Jesus, is Bucky really that weak? He doesn’t want to _do_ anything with Clint. Maybe cuddle. Bucky needs someone and he and Clint are just friends.

His phone buzzes and he’s out the door to Clint’s.

* * *

Carol Danvers  _@CaptainCarolD_  – 45min  
When does #RottenRogers trial start?

Mack Mackenzie @MackMackenziee – 23min  
A week? Also You misspelled #RescueRogers

When Steve wakes, he stares up at a brown ceiling fan that lazily spins around and around above him. He’s sprawled out on the bed. The sheets aren’t silk like Bucky’s. They don’t smell like Bucky. Nothing here says _Bucky_.

Steve bites the inside of his cheek, still staring at that ceiling fan. The whole loft is open and bright. He can’t keep the sun out because of the big circular window that takes up most of a wall. The exposed beams are brown. Ceiling fans are brown. Accents are brown. But everything else is white and sterile and _not Bucky_. Bucky’s apartment is full of books, colors and mismatched furniture. Bucky’s apartment has pictures on the walls of family, photos of New York that he probably got at TJ Maxx. The art on the walls here have to all be original from artists Steve recognizes and some he can’t.

“I hate this,” Steve says and winces when he can faintly hear an echo. The loft is too big. Too bright. Too lonely.

Steve climbs out of bed and looks at his shoddy backpack. It’s the only thing in here not white and perfect. There’s scuffmarks on the edges. A strap is about to finally break from how worn it is at the bend. He’s got some of his own clothes and some of Bucky’s inside. He pulls out one of Bucky’s shirts and goes to the couch to lie with it. Bucky’s cologne is fresh on the collar. Steve had taken it out of the hamper dirty. He wanted Bucky’s salty scent mixed with his fresh cologne. He sighs, feeling pathetic and more than like a child. He’s an adult and knows this is only temporary. He’s lived alone most of his adult life. He’s been to war.

But he’s not allowed to contact Bucky without Tony’s permission. He’s not allowed to leave without Happy to babysit him. He feels just like a child. So he indulges in the simple feeling of desperation. He buries his face in Bucky’s dirty shirt. Tears burn at the corners of his eyes. He misses Bucky so much. His heart doesn’t beat right. His head spins. He doesn’t want to stay a moment longer in this sterile environment. He wants to be in Bucky’s arms. He wants to be splayed out in Bucky’s playroom. He wants to be on the couch watching the nightly news with Bucky, all safe and snuggled beneath blankets and Bucky’s protective arms.

“I hate this,” he says again.

Steve doesn’t want to eat. He knows he should at least drink some water but he can’t find the energy to move over to the kitchen in the corner. The kitchen that’s too big, too white, and too perfect. It’s not Bucky’s blue kitchen with his mismatched plates and the forks with three prongs instead of four. It isn’t home.

Home is Bucky now. Home is a little apartment in Manhattan with an attorney that has given more than Steve has ever deserved. Home is Bucky Barnes. And Steve would eat out his own heart if it meant he could see Bucky right now.

He lays back, looking up at _another_ ceiling fan. It’s fifteen feet up, mocking him. He wants to tear it down. He wants to tear this whole place down. Burn it. He wants to go home.

Steve doesn’t like feeling abandoned, especially since he knows he hasn’t been. But he can’t tell his heart to feel any differently because his brain feeds him anxious thoughts. Bucky isn’t here because he doesn’t want to be here. Bucky isn’t here because he can’t keep up with Steve anymore. Bucky isn’t here because Steve is broken and used. Bucky isn’t here because Brock said no one else would ever want Steve.

Brock was right. Brock was wrong.

Brock’s a liar. Brock knows what’s best.

Steve curls into Bucky’s shirt, whining. He thinks about Peggy and Sharon. He thinks about how he’d been shoved into a dog’s cage and tickled with feathers. He thinks about how he hated it but was too afraid to say anything until he was crying. They’d pulled him out and held him but that didn’t change the facts.

Steve is damaged. He knows he can’t see Bucky, but no one said anything about others.

There’s a knock on the door and Steve’s plan is momentarily halted. He rushes to it, praying—praying he sees slicked back brown hair and steel gray eyes. He can’t help how his face falls when he sees dark skin, brown eyes and a smile he used to cherish so much.

Sam.

“Hey,” Sam says.

“Hey,” Steve repeats back.

“You wanted me to be Bucky.” Because Sam knows Steve’s mind like it’s his own.

“Sorry.” Steve looks away, shame filling his lungs like sandbags. He feels himself being forced into the floor from its weight.

“I know it sucks. But it’s so close to being over and then you two can do whatever you want. Just gotta be strong, okay?” Sam slides inside, looking around. “Hoo boy this place is huge.” His words echo against the walls. They bounce around, fumbling in Steve’s ears before falling out.

“I hate it,” Steve says.

“I’ll bet you do. You’ve never had any taste.” Sam playfully hits Steve on the shoulder and deflects when Steve doesn’t smile back. It’s too hard to smile. It’s a chore, it’s a lie. Steve loves Sam, but Steve loves Bucky too. Steve can see Sam, but Steve can’t see Bucky. He needs _someone_ to love him. He needs someone to do things to him so he can forget about how much he misses Bucky. He can’t ask Sam to do those things. Sam’s never been comfortable with the idea and while he supports Steve, he’s not even into guys. Steve knows who it needs to be. But he can’t get there with Sam here.

Steve rubs his fingers over his head and looks around. “I like the window a lot.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty cool. Oh.” Sam runs over. “You can _sit_ in it!”

Steve does smile when Sam hops into the window and presses his face against the glass.

“You can see the water so perfectly. Like the glass isn’t even here.”

Steve joins Sam, standing behind him and looking out over the water. He can see the Statue of Liberty, some ways away. She stands tall, her glory and power once a beacon of hope—of adventure. Steve thinks she’s the biggest lie the world has ever seen. America has never been the land of milk and honey. It’s been the country where everyone’s always run to escape one place to find out it’s the same here. It’s the land of racism. Of capitalism. It’s the land of lies. He wants to love his country. He wants to love the Statue of Liberty. But when men like Norman Osborn rule New York. When rapists occupy the oval office—he’s not sure if he can ever love it again. And he’d fought for it once. The land of liars.

“Hey, you okay? Your ears are pink.” Sam stands up from the window and flicks one of Steve’s ears.

Steve stands back, cupping his hands over both ears. “Fine. Just—pissed.”

“I know this sucks for you. But it’ll be over. I got faith in Bucky.”

“No matter what happens, Sam. Me dead or not. It’ll be over.” Steve sighs and sits down, leaning against the wall. “I don’t even care which happens anymore.”

“Don’t say that,” Sam says, brow crinkled. “Don’t you dare give up. You’ve got so much to live for Steve. You’re talented and smart. You could do anything.”

“I’ve read a lot about falsely accused people for murder. They don’t recover. They can get as many degrees as they want, Sam but they don’t get jobs. They don’t make friends. People avoid them because _every_ background check that they’re submitted for, it still comes up. It’s still and will always be public record. I’ll always be Harry’s murderer, even if I’m not. Innocent until proven guilty my ass. People in this town may as well put a noose around my neck.”

“Steve!”

“It’s the truth, Sam!” Steve all but yells. He can feel his pulse in his neck. “I’ll never get to have a normal life! I’ll never get to—just be an artist or be a teacher. I wanted to teach high school. I wanted to _do_ something.” He looks to his lap. “I’ll never get that chance. My life is over.”

“It ain’t over till God says it is, Steve. Don’t you dare forget that.”

Steve sighs. He rolls his head up to face the vaulted ceilings. Until God says it is. But what if God doesn’t get to make that decision. He’d given the world free will and it certainly took advantage of that. It got to kill, maim, and destroy because it could. What power did God have when the world ate the weak and controlled the less-fortunate? What power did God really have?

“I’m gonna make some food, okay? Have you eaten?” Sam asks.

“Not hungry.”

“Not caring.” Sam stands up and heads toward the kitchen area. “If you don’t clean your plate, Steven Rogers, so help me.”

Steve hauls himself off the floor, resigned. Maybe God gave Steve Sam because without him, Steve would’ve found his way back to Brock. And Steve thinks that if he’d gone back, he would’ve never gotten back out. Brock would’ve wrapped his coils around Steve and he really would never get to see Bucky again.

Maybe God has more control than Steve knows. He feels foolish for doubting Him, even for a moment.  

* * *

Bucky lays on Clint’s couch, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Clint’s “getting ready” and Bucky’s hating himself. He knows he and Steve are a secret. But _he_ knows. Which means he should know better than to do this. But he came over, and Clint had broken down. Clint’s needed Bucky and Bucky has been such an ass to him. Natasha turned Clint down because, frankly, she’s concerned about his mental stability. She put Clint right back on Bucky’s lap with a long-ass text message listing all the reasons why she can’t do that with Clint while he’s like this. One of the biggest reasons is that she cares for Clint, but if Clint doesn’t care back? Well, Bucky knows that story already. Because he’s sure Clint cares for him more than this arrangement was supposed to be. Now he can’t find how to get out without telling Clint the truth. He knows if he’s honest, Clint will immediately back up. There may be hard feelings, but Clint will understand. Except that’s just _one_ more person to risk and Bucky cares enough about Clint to keep him safe. Natasha can protect herself, but Clint? Clint’s far too emotionally unstable to keep a clear head if someone finds him and corners him in an alley.

“Like it?” Clint says when he comes out. He’s wearing a little number made all of leather that hugs his junk just right with a strap that goes up to his neck to form a halter. It’s almost alien in its design but it gives Clint’s body a boyish feel to his hard muscle and Bucky hates that his cock twitches when he sees Clint’s ass. Firm and muscular, not like Steve’s round supple ass.

“It’s real nice, Clint,” Bucky says without any emotion. “I don’t want this.”

Clint’s eyes round his mouth falls open. “Then why are you here?”

“I didn’t—wanna be alone.”

“He’s your client, Bucky.” It’s astounding how Clint can go from adorable, malleable sub to almost terrifying in his anger. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t flush red like Steve would. He’s smooth, hard skin that clenches subtly beneath the surface. “He’s got a place to live. That’s how it should be. It’s fuckin’ weird that he was _living_ with you.”

Bucky closes his eyes. “I know.”

“You like him don’t you?” Clint asks, voice softer. “Jesus—I knew it. I fuckin’ _knew_ it!”

“You’re not my boyfriend Clint!” Bucky says, standing up. “We’re friends! This wasn’t supposed to be anything serious!”

Clint steps back, a jerk to chin. He raises a single hand into the air and pushes it back down like he’s trying to chase away the reaction he feels.

Bucky knows he’s crossed a line. He’s saying words he knows will hurt and he knows he’s doing it because he _must_ and because he wants to. He needs to make Clint understand this can’t keep happening but he _wants_ to hurt Clint because Clint is hurting him and Bucky’s already hurting because he can’t see Steve right now. There’s too many cameras at Steve’s place and whether Tony promises it’s safe, that—what they do? Bucky isn’t ready for it to be shared with anyone else but Steve. Which means it can’t happen there. He can kiss Steve all he wants on those cameras but he can’t do anything that he and Steve really need. They need their scenes. They need their intimacy. It’s theirs and theirs alone and the world is prying it from them. It’s a punishment and Bucky knows it. He should have never let this happen but it did, and he won’t go back on it now.

“I liked you,” Clint admits. Of course he did. Bucky already knew. And instead of treating Clint with dignity, Bucky hid away hoping the problem would just go away when he knew full well it wouldn’t. “I thought—you might like me too.”

Bucky crosses is arms, jaw clenched so hard he’s afraid he’ll break his teeth.

“And you didn’t even deny it,” Clint keeps going. “You do like him. You can’t even have him and I’m _right here_ and you won’t even look at me. That’s bullshit Bucky. He’s not yours to have but I am!”

Bucky realizes this was the biggest mistake of his life. He doesn’t want to hear how badly he’s hurt Clint. He knows it’s selfish. But he can’t _take_ it. He’s so pent up with anguish that he’ll scream and he can’t do that to Clint. He’s so close to getting this case over with and then he can explain to Clint it’s not his fault. He can explain that Clint did nothing wrong. But it’s too soon.

“You’re a piece of shit, Barnes. Get out of my house.”

Bucky does without another look at Clint. He can’t look. He knows Clint probably thinks it’s because he doesn’t care, but it’s because he cares too much. He can’t look Clint in the eye and hold everything back. He can’t face Clint’s tears without breaking down and confessing everything. So he plays the part of the dirtbag who’d used Clint and spit him out when some shiny new toy came around. He plays the part because he knows Clint needs it. Bucky has made a lot of mistakes in his life. He didn’t want Clint to be one of them. He’d valued their friendship and now he’s not so sure he can ever get it back.

On the subway, he tries to hide his tears by hastily brushing them away, typing a furious message to Nat about how he can’t do anything right. How he’s destroyed a friendship he’d cherished so much. How he hates Steve’s trial and Oscorp and hates that he can’t tell Clint the truth.

Once he’s finished, he leans back and growls, making the lady next to him move away. He doesn’t care. Fine, he’ll be a jerk to her too. He’s doing just fine with turning the world against him one friend at a time, what’s one nameless woman on the subway? Fuck her. Fuck this.

Bucky’s almost home when he gets a text from Nat saying she’s sorry. That’s it? Two words? _I’m sorry_. Bucky wants to throw the phone at the gum-ridden cement. But then another text comes.

_I know this is hard for you right now. I can’t imagine the stress of a murder trial and losing a friend and hiding a relationship. I don’t envy you and I love you. If you don’t want to go home, come to me._

Bucky googles how to get to Nat’s house from the line he’s already on and misses his ordinary stop. Fuck the guys following him. He looks around, wondering which ones Oscorp hired for this week. He’s noticed they get switched out every now and then. Probably so Bucky doesn’t notice. But he does. He has. He’s gotten less afraid and more pissed off. He’s pretty sure the goons following him are in another car. Maybe they’d even gotten off at his stop. Or maybe they’re the teen couple at the back of the other car who’re laughing and giggling away. Bucky can’t be too careful anymore. He doesn’t trust anyone except the ones he’s had in his life before Steve. Nat and Clint. And he’s lost Clint. His sisters. He trusts them too. He hopes they’re doing well. He knows he hasn’t talked to them but he also knows they’re very aware of how busy he is over this case.

It’s consumed his life, and not just his relationship with Steve. But every aspect. He’s been thrown into legal fame. He’s getting requests for interviews. CBS News. ABC News. Local, national. Oprah. He’s getting interviews that he ignores because he cares too much about Steve to even jeopardize a single sentence in their case. If he was any other attorney, he’s almost sure they would’ve accepted anything and everything. A chance to be famous. A chance at more opportunity. Notoriety. But Bucky’s never done this job because he wanted fame. He’s in it because there are people, like Steve, who are wrongly accused. It makes fighting for the guilty worth it. This isn’t just a job to Bucky. It’s a calling. He’ll represent the guilty if it means he can protect the innocent from a fate they don’t deserve.

Bucky gets off the subway and makes his way up to the surface. When he gets there, two men are standing at the opening, long black coats. Sunglasses on their faces. They look mean and Bucky knows exactly who they’re standing there for. He turns around and begins to run down the escalator that goes up, pissing off people in the process.

“Excuse me. Excuse me!”

“Hey buddy watch it!”

“What’re you doing?!”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, “Excuse me!”

The two men go down the other way and are at the base. He jumps from the elevator and slides down on the middle between the escalators. He jumps over the men and runs.

He knows they’re following. This is it. This is how he dies. Alone and without getting to tell Steve he doesn’t regret anything. He doesn’t get to kiss him again. He doesn’t get to tell him it’ll be okay because Foggy and Matt are the best attorneys Bucky could leave Steve with and Tony will take care of him. But he doesn’t get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s shoved up against a wall. He screams. People look but they scurry away. An invisible bubble appears around him. A sea of people avoiding him.

“Are you kidding me! I’m screaming for help! Someone fuckin’ help me! Call the police!”

One of the guys shows off a badge. “Excuse him. We are the police.”

Of course. Bucky slams his shoulder into the guy on his left but the guy on his right presses something cold and hard to his lower back. He freezes because instinct takes over. Flight. Fight. Freeze. Apparently, Bucky is a freezer. He would’ve never guessed.

“If you want Clint Barton to live, you’ll shut up right now.”

Clint. Oh no. “Don’t you _dare_ touch him!” Bucky hisses through his teeth. “I swear to God I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” the goon on the right says. “Kill us?”

They share a laugh. One Bucky doesn’t find funny. This is the end. This is really the end. Bucky looks up at the cloudy, cold sky when they get to the top. He looks at the buildings, trying his best to memorize each and every one of them. If this is his last time, he wants to take New York to the grave with him.

He hates, deep down in his gut, he _hates_ that he’s relieved they have Clint and not Steve. It’s disgusting. It’s vile and wrong and certainly will put him in Hell if Hell’s a real place. Jews don’t believe in Hell, but that doesn’t mean Bucky’s so sure to bet on a religion he left long ago. Christians believe in Hell. Pagans. Who is he to know what the fuck he’s going to see when they pull that trigger and he loses his life.

He can’t stop thinking about Steve. He knows how much Steve’ll blame himself. He’ll want to give up, turn himself into Oscorp, let Norman pull the damn trigger while he rests on his knees. Bucky just wishes he could tell Steve to never give up. He just wishes he could say one last thing to him:

It. Was. _All_. Worth. It.

Bucky’s ushered into a cop car and one of the cops—real or not—guides his head in so he doesn’t bump it. How kind, he thinks. Being led to the slaughter and they care enough to make sure he doesn’t bump his head. Bucky laughs, though it sounds more like a snarl.

“Let Norman know we’ve got the package,” Left Goon says into the coms in the squad car.

Package. He’s not even a person anymore. He’s a body to be dumped in the water and his parents will wonder where he is. They’ll never know if he was murdered or just disappeared. He closes his eyes, resting against the cool bite of the window as the world moves around them. He’s so scared he’s trembling. He wishes he could be brave for Steve. For his sisters. But faced with death? Knowing that it’s finally found him? He’s out of his mind terrified. He just wants Steve to go on. God, he prays that big oaf will just go on once Bucky’s dead.

Jesus. _Dead_.

“You fucks wanna tell me what’s going on?” Bucky asks, because what’s the worst they can do? Kill him? They’re already going to.

They don’t respond to him.

“Fine. Guess I’ll just start singing.” He leans up to the bars and starts singing “ _Never gonna give you up, never gonna—_ ”

“One more word and I’ll pull this car over and cut your damn toes off. You want that? Can’t walk without your fucking toes.”

Bucky pauses for a moment, his mind really debating on whether he could deal with that for the hour or so he has left on Earth. “ _Don’t you! DA NA NA NA NA! Forget about me! Don’t don’t don’t don’t!”_

“That’s it.” The guy pulls over and there’s genuine terror in Bucky’s body. Once the door opens he slams his feet into the guy and scrambles as best he can to get out. The other guy’s there though, jumping on him. It looks like a cop just taking down a criminal. People stop and pull out cameras and Bucky knows this’ll end up on the nightly fucking News. But that’s good! If this gets leaked then Oscorp can’t kill him because then the world will know he’s dead! He makes sure to show off his face as much as he can, shouting and yelling at people that they cops are dirty liars.

One of the goons comes behind Bucky and uses a taser on him. Bucky’s body seizes, the pain more than he’d been expecting. He swears he pisses himself a little. His limbs are jelly and he can’t find the strength to even scream.

Then he feels another bite in his skin and the electric current goes over again. Twice. He’s been tased twice. He knows he’s pissed himself now.

They load him back into the cop car. He can’t fight them anymore. His bones are water and they slosh around with each step. He just hopes someone dumps this onto the internet and a station picks it up. He’s at least a hot topic right now.

Shoved in the back, he’s gagged and cuffed this time. Should’ve done that before but these guys aren’t cops—that’s more than apparent. Bucky’s sure if he tried to run their badges, he’d find nothing. He just does all he can to remember their faces if the gets out of this alive.

* * *

_MSNBC @MSNBC – 12h_

_BREAKING: James “Bucky” Barnes arrested by NYPD. Details unknown about his arrest. on.msnbc.com/1YqtkPk_

Bucky’s strapped to a chair. It’s comfy, all things considered. He’s not in some weird basement with lava or sharks below him. He’s in a high-rise office. A picture of Harry Osborn is on a bookshelf and there’s a basketball display, all signed by various athletes. The room is dark and sleek, the New York nightlife claiming the world below. Bucky’s alone, or at least he thinks he is.

“Nice to finally meet you,” a voice says.

Bucky sighs. He’s pretty sure he knows who this is. “Norman.”

Norman Osborn steps into view, his face cast mostly in shadow. He’s all sharp edges and pointed teeth. Like a goblin. He sits behind his desk and folds his hands together. “Thought we’d have a chat like gentlemen. You’ve been acting more like a rat lately. Sneaking about.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side and sneers. “Better a rat than a snake.”

“Ah but the snake eats the rat.” Norman sits back, his pointy chin pleased with itself. Bucky wants to punch him. He wants to shove him out the damn window. Snake or not, he’ll fall down forty flights just the same. Maybe if he’s lucky he’ll die of fright before he hits the ground. “When Peter told me about Wade, I thought it was good for him. Finding someone his age. He’d always adored Harry so.”

Bucky’s heart seizes. He stares, like watching a train hurdle toward a group of children.

“Just a trip to the Hamptons. A nice boy that he’s met. You see—I’ve always treated Peter like my own son. So to hear he’s been going behind my back and playing nice with Tony Stark?” Norman sniffs in that way rich men do like they smell shit on a regular man’s skin. “Well I consider that quite a betrayal.”

“You fucking piece of shit! He’s just a kid!” Bucky leans forward, the ropes around his wrists burning. “His aunt is the only person he has left!”

“And she would’ve been perfectly fine had you not gotten yourself involved. Do you think I don’t have eyes everywhere? Do you think I don’t have janitors placed in every mega corporation in the world that report back to me?”

“You fucking—I’ll kill you!” Bucky struggled so hard against his bindings he fell to the floor. He kept kicking, his wrists tugging and tugging until he could feel warmth slipping down his palms. Blood. “He’s a fucking kid! He’s a goddamned kid!”

“AND SO WAS MY SON!” Osborn stands up, his body shaking. “Did that stop him from dying? Did that protect him from the cruelties of this world? No. Children do not get a free pass while the rest of us suffer. We all suffer!”

“Where is he?” Bucky asks, brokenly. “Where’s Peter. Where’s his aunt?”

“She’s safe for now. He’s safe for now. They’re all safe depending on _you_.”

Bucky breathes out a sigh of relief. He’ll do whatever he has to. None of these people deserve the horrors this has caused. Steve. Peter. Aunt May. Sam. Clint. Wait. Clint!

“And Clint?” Bucky looks up between a few fallen strands of hair. Norman is more monster than man. His teeth sharp and elven, his ears like blades against his skin. Even his cheekbones are as high as a Disney villain’s. He’s all evil and no human.

“He’ll be fine depending on how our negotiations go tonight. You see, I can’t get to Steve right now. And you know that. You and that brilliant little mind of yours. But Papa Stark can’t protect the world.” Norman comes around the desk and drops pictures down to the floor by Bucky’s face.

Bucky strains to look, his nostrils flaring as he fights to breathe. Peter has a gash on his face, there’s a bruise on his neck that looks like someone choked him. He’s crying and tied up. There’s another picture but it’s too far away for Bucky to see. Norman pushes it over with his boot. Clint. He’s got a busted lip and he’s facing down, away from the camera.

“You can save them if you do two things for me.”

“You’re a monster.”

“And lawyers are so much better? I’ve done my research on you, Barnes. You’ve represented rapists, murderers and gang members. You’re the reason so many have died because you put guilty people right back onto the streets. I’m merely cleaning up a simple mess that cost my son’s life. I’ve never killed anyone. You have.”

“That’s not how it—I was doing my job!”

“Tell that to Kimberly Shelly. She died because you got her rapist and murderer a plea deal!” Norman drops another picture to the floor.

Bucky doesn’t recognize the girl, but he sees the number done to her. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen open. There’s cuts and bruises all over her body. The worst ones are the imprints of literal hands at her neck.

“What do you want?” Bucky asks, tears in his eyes. He’d been doing his job…he’d just been doing his job… The law isn’t perfect. He knows it. But the world isn’t full of guilty men. There are good ones and those need guys like Bucky. Guys like Steve! But—does it even make it worth it? That one innocent in a hundred guilty? Does getting a lighter sentence for a true criminal make it any more okay when they just go back onto the streets to do the same things over and over again? Kimberly Shelly doesn’t even look like she’s seventeen. Bucky chokes on a sob. “What do you _fucking_ want?”

“I want you to tell the truth, Barnes.” Norman sits by Bucky, picking up the pictures and holding them like poker cards. He hums, looking at each one. “I want you to expose yourself for the disgusting pervert you are.” He shows another picture, one of Bucky’s own playroom. Then another: Steve and him kissing in Tony’s loft. Then another: Bucky’s mouth around Steve’s cock. They’re outside views, all through windows but they’re clear all the same.

Bucky once asked what was worse than death? This. This is his answer. Dying would be a treat compared to the future he now faces. Osborn never wanted to kill Bucky. He wanted to _destroy_ him.

“I’ll deliver Parker back to that nice boy Wade. I’ll even give him back his Aunt. I won’t need his help anymore proving Steve Rogers is a filthy murderer. Only murderers would be perverted enough let you do the things you’ve done to him. Fucking machines? A cock cage?” Norman clicks his tongue. “Dear Barnes, you really are disgusting. But then again, you’re a defense attorney so why do I act surprised?” He shrugs, a little chuckle under his breath.

Bucky doesn’t have the strength to fight back. It’s abandoned him. The fight. The desire to survive. He’s so sorry. He wanted to do right by Steve. To protect him—to shield him from this whole lie. But he’d delivered Steve up on a silver platter. With Bucky discredited just before the case began, Steve would probably get a public defender—if he even wanted one. That person wouldn’t know jack shit about the realities of what’s happened. They’d go into court believing Steve to be as guilty as all of America thinks. And then…

They’d kill Steve.

“What’s the other thing?” Bucky asks, saliva puddling beneath his smooshed face on the floor. “You said two things.”

“I want you to break up with Steve Rogers. Tell him it was all a mistake and you’re turning yourself in.”

Bucky closes his eyes. “No,” he whispers. “Please no. Please don’t make—”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Norman leans back, examining his cuticles. “I’m merely giving you my demands. It’s up to you whether you do them or not. But then again—I have three very innocent people in my custody that would just hate to be tortured to death. Peter’s so young. Such promise ahead of him.” Norman shrugs. “But that’s your choice.”

“You’re worse than me,” Bucky says. “I know I’m shit. But you genuinely believe you’re not accountable for all this. That this hasn’t all happened because of you. If I’m a murderer then so are you. If you order them dead then that makes you no different than me!”

“No Bucky. They won’t die because I want them to. They’ll die because you’ll have chosen Steve as more important. So what is it then? Does Steve mean more to you than the lives of three innocent people? Think about it. I’ll give you—ah yes—three days! How poetic. I’ll give you three days to think about the three lives that are in _your_ hands.”

Norman stands and picks up Bucky’s chair. Bucky struggles the whole way but eventually he’s planted on the chair’s four legs again. He glares at Norman, praying harder than he ever has that this man’s heart would just explode out from his chest. But that’s the poetic irony of all of this. Norman’s untouchable. The rich and powerful, they play their games and God stays silent. If there’s a god at all.

And that’s exactly why Bucky gave up so long ago on God. Why would he love and pray to someone that had abandoned the world to men like Norman Osborn? No. God doesn’t deserve Bucky’s prayers.

“I’ve got everything you need right here to turn yourself in with. Pictures. Audio. I’ll release it to reporters all over New York and you’ll go straight to the Bar to report your serious ethical violations. After that, you’ll never be able to practice in the state of New York again. And your reputation will be so tarnished I doubt any other state would take you. Perhaps it’s time you think about McDonald’s for employment, hmm? Or maybe you could even work for me. I need my toilets cleaned daily in my buildings.” Norman smiles a crocodile’s smile. “Three days. Three lives. One little Steve Rogers. Is he really worth all this fuss?”

Bucky stares at his feet. He wants to fight back, but the act would only be comical at this point. The snake really does eat the rat, and Bucky is absolutely in the snake’s coils. He loves Steve. He would’ve given his life for him. Bucky is _still_ prepared to die for Steve. But that’s not the offer on the table. Norman doesn’t want death for Bucky. He wants total and utter annihilation. To obliterate Bucky as a sad warning to all the other businesses and anyone who’s ever dared to fuck with Norman Osborn. He’s an example—and a very compelling one.

“But I have three full days? Till midnight on the third day?” Bucky asks, because as a lawyer, words matter. “Starting tomorrow?”

“As I said.” Norman nods.

“And if I turn myself in? What then? You’ll just let Steve die?” It’s interesting to Bucky that even he’s rearranged his words to allow Norman to believe he wouldn’t be responsible for Steve’s death.

“Steve will go to court and whatever happens to him is up to the judge. Of course, all your evidence will be discredited given that it’s—well it’s from you. And you won’t have Peter to discredit _me_.”

“And then he’ll die?” Bucky asks, tears slipping from his face. He never entertained the idea that he’d lose. Not really. Not after everything started to come together so well. He could die, sure, but he never thought Steve would too. Bucky always thought they’d find a way to save Steve. That somehow, with Bucky or not, Steve would still get to walk away. Beautiful, compassionate, wonderful Steve.

Bucky’s stomach clenches tight and the world spins.

“He’ll be sentenced, Barnes. Don’t you know how courts work? There’s a jury and a verdict and a sentence. I thought you were a lawyer.”

“No you fucking animal—you’re gonna kill him!”

Norman puts his hand on his chest, eyes wide. He feigns shock and Bucky wishes more than anything he could rip his arms off to bite at Norman’s neck and just kill him now. Bucky’s never thought himself capable of murder. But maybe it’s inside everyone, lurking in the back of our psyche. Bucky would die for Steve. He’d also kill for him. And that doesn’t leave Bucky with a clear idea of what he’ll even do. Three lives versus one. Three lives. But those lives are stacked against _Steve_.

“What happens to Steve in prison is not my doing. I can’t touch him there just as much as he can’t touch me here.”

“But he will die,” Bucky says, filling in the blanks that Norman is giving. “He’ll be sentenced, he’ll go to prison, and he’ll die so this whole thing can be put behind Oscorp.”

Norman smirks. “You are a smart boy.”

“What if I leak this to the press? Tell the judge? The police?”

“It’s very easy to discredit you, Bucky. I have all the evidence right here. I haven’t even showed you the video I got of you beating against poor Steve’s ass. The way you strapped him to that—thing. Do you take pleasure in abusing people? Is that why you have all those—machines—in your apartment? You really are a sick man. Maybe I as a concerned citizen could have you involuntarily committed for your three days? Hmm? You tell anyone, Peter, May and Clint die. You tell Tony—Peter, May and Clint die. You tell _anyone_ they die, you get exposed anyway and I bury you in so many scandals you’ll kill your own self.” Norman shrugs like he’s talking about the weather turning to rain or snow tomorrow. “This wouldn’t be my first rodeo, Bucky. I’ve been around this block before. Do you really think my son, with how troubled and delicate that he was, hadn’t made this kind of a mess before? The only difference is this time _you_ decided to fuck the poor bastard that got in the way.”

Norman sits atop his desk, letting picture after picture fall to the ground. Private moments between him and Steve. Kisses. Touches. Moments that were beautiful between them but now warped and tainted. Bucky had never felt ashamed of kink before. He’d never felt wrong for wanting to be a Dom. Now he did. Norman took a beautiful relationship between Bucky and Steve and he derailed it, twisting it up in his tendrils and made it foul and blackened. The world wouldn’t see Steve and Bucky’s relationship as anything but wrong, abusive, and Bucky having taken serious advantage of Steve. The world would crucify Bucky as much as it had already done so to Steve.

There was no escaping this. Either Bucky let three innocent people die, or he told the world his biggest secret.

Bucky inhales a shaky breath. The fight long since gone. He looks up at Norman’s sharp face. “Why do you have to kill him?” Tears slip down his cheeks. “He’s a good person.”

Norman pushes out his hand, his index finger wagging from side to side. “I’ve killed no one. What happens to Steve in prison isn’t my fault.”

“You know—I don’t care what happens to me. Torture me. Mock me. Take away my whole life and everything I’ve done to build it. Fine. But if he dies, I’ll die trying to kill you. I may even get close. He dies—and I’ll dedicate everything I am to taking you down with me.” Bucky smirks. “I may even succeed. You really willing to take that chance?”

“Oh Bucky,” Norman says, his eyes sparkling in the darkness. “Your mother was so kind to me when I offered Rebecca an internship for the summer. I’d hate for something to happen to such a lovely family.”

Bucky smiles bitterly. Of course. Of _course_ he’d track down every person Bucky’s ever loved.

“Is Steve really worth the woman who risked her own life to have you? Who raised you? Your father who taught you how to drive a car? Play baseball? Your beautiful, beautiful sisters? Is one man really worth that much to you? And here I always thought blood was thicker than water.”

Bucky’s never felt so powerless before. Tears fall from his eyes in silent streams. He can’t stop them. He tries. He brushes his cheeks against his shoulders to keep the tears from staining his face but he knows it’s too late. He’s a pitiful washed up deadbeat and the world will know it all the same. Three days. Tomorrow. Either Bucky kills three people, or he breaks Steve’s heart and lets him die too. Bucky can’t risk his family. But why is it he has to risk anyone’s? Why is this _his_ choice? He doesn’t want it.

“Why don’t you just kill me.” His voice is flat, his heart so desperate to stop that he wishes he could make it do just that.

“Because I need you,” Norman says. He reaches out and gives Bucky a pat on the head. “All you had to do was not be so smart and we could’ve avoided this. Too much brain under that perfectly styled hair of yours. You have three days.” Norman brings a needle up to Bucky’s neck and injects something before Bucky can even utter a single protest.

* * *

When Bucky wakes, he’s in his own bed. He’s groggy and his wrists hurt. He fumbles out of bed, tangled in the silken sheets. He doesn’t even get to the bathroom door before he’s vomiting onto his floors. He lays there, his breath horrid, his mind numb, wrists and body aching. He’d rather have chosen between being flayed alive or being eaten by dogs. He’d have picked the dogs.

He wants to see Steve. If he has three days, then he doesn’t give a _shit_ who knows where he is. He has three days to give Steve everything he’s never given him. Three days to say fuck _everyone_ and take Steve dancing. To kiss him in the darkness of a movie theater. He has three days to make sure Steve knows how much he loves him.

Three days. Three _fucking_ days.

Bucky wipes tears from his eyes, wondering where Stark’s stupid drone was when he was fucking kidnapped. He walks out into living room, planning to get a glass of water for the taste in his mouth.

Tony Stark sits in total darkness. Only his distinct shape gives him away, the hint of a goatee shining in the darkness of the moon. A silver predator in the darkness of the night.

“That how you protect me? Let Norman tie me up and blow a hole in this thing? You were supposed to _protect_ Peter!”

“I know.” No excuses. No fighting back. There’s a respect to be gained from that, but Bucky’s too pissed and his stomach hurts too much to back down right now.

“They have my friend Clint. If I don’t do something—horrible—they’re gonna kill Peter, his aunt and my friend.”

“I know,” Tony says again. “The drone.”

“You just _being_ here puts this all in jeopardy!” Bucky looks over at his blinds and notices they’re closed minus the tiny slivers that seep weak moonlight in. “They’ll all die if Norman finds you here.”

“He won’t find me here, Barnes.” Tony stands up. “Don’t turn on any lights and listen to me.”

Bucky grits his teeth but he says nothing.

“I listened to the entire conversation between Norman and you. Naturally, I recorded it. There’s enough there to get him arrested. It’s conspiracy to commit murder, right? That the correct term?”

“Technically it’s assault, kidnapping, attempted murder, manslaughter because of Harry, suppression of evidence, obstruction of justice _and_ conspiracy—yeah.” Bucky crosses his arms. “Did you report it already?” There’s a hope that Bucky didn’t have before, that small little flame that he doesn’t want to let go. He’d lost it when Osborn took him, but just like that, it’s now back, warm against his sternum.

“Not yet. I don’t want anyone to get killed and since I don’t know which cops we can trust—I don’t know who to report it to.”

Bucky nods. He’s glad Tony genuinely grasps the severity of the situation. Tony himself is untouchable, but he cares enough about strangers to make sure no one dies. Bucky is surrounded by heroes. None of them him. He’s just been entertaining the idea of letting Steve go off to the slaughter or allowing three innocent lives fade away _for_ Steve. It should’ve been a no-brainer, but it wasn’t. Steve _matters_ far too much to Bucky. It’s terrifying.

“We could report it to the FBI? Local cops may be bought, but I can’t imagine FBI?” Bucky says. “Though—guy like that. I’m not sure.”

“You said you didn’t know if Judge Jameson was bought or not?” Tony asks.

“Oh. Right. Yeah I dunno. It’s usually happenstance which judge you end up with.”

“You need to speak to him.”

“I need to speak to Jen too. Steve told Steve she’s also being threatened. If she’s with me, Jameson may listen more. Or at least feel better than it’s not an ex parte meeting.”

Out of the fire, and maybe back on the road to getting Steve out of this? Bucky hopes so. But he has to act fast. He has three days and then Osborn would pull the trigger. Either on Bucky’s own reputation or Peter, May and Clint.

“Then I’ll get Jen Walters and you into a room together. I’m now personally pissed at Osborn.”

“What happened?” Bucky asks, fearful of the answer.

“He put Wade in the hospital. Nearly dead but somehow that kid’s damn hard to actually off.” Tony smirks. “Proud of him though. He scarred up his entire face to save Peter.”

“Jesus.” Bucky cringes, imaging the outcome there, the fear Peter must’ve felt when Osborn got his hands on Peter. They did this to protect Peter, and he still ended up taken. Thank God Osborn hadn’t hurt May. He just shifted his menacing plans to Bucky. “I’m sorry. Will he be okay?”

“He’ll have mass scarring on his body for the rest of his life, but yeah. He’ll live.” Tony stands up, shoving his hands in his pockets. Bucky can only see the movement because of the light pollution slipping through the tiny cracks in the blinds. “I’ll help you take him down. My company is trying to fuck with his stocks as much as possible. Things we can do legally to put some pressure on him. But I’m only one man. You need to get Jen on your side if you believe she can help. If she reports this though? I can’t protect people not under my custody.”

“I know,” Bucky says. “You’ve done the best you can.”

“Steve’s still safe, Bucky. I think given the circumstances, you should go see him. I’ve got the cameras and audio turned off and no one but me can activate them gain. If Osborn already knows about you two, what’s the worst that can happen now with that? He gave you three days.”

“Did you ever figure out your mole? He mentioned janitors?”

“We’re working on that. Happy’s on the case since he’s head of security.”

Bucky nods.

“Go see Steve. Stay the night. At this point, what’s there to lose?”

Bucky nods. He doesn’t say goodbye. He knows Tony will leave the way he came, all mysterious and oddly frightening that he could just get inside. Did he make a key? Bucky grabs a few things and shoves them all into a backpack. It’s late and when he sees the clock, he’s absolutely certain Steve’s already asleep. It’s nearly 3AM. Day one. Bucky’s sick to his stomach. Once he’s finished, he opts for taking out his Beamer since the subways can be pretty freaky at this time of night. And he’s honestly in no rush to touch one of those again any time soon considering what happened last time.

He sends off a stupidly late text to Natasha apologizing that he didn’t come over. He feels it’s best to leave her out of this mess. She hadn’t asked about Clint so Bucky doesn’t say anything. Then he’s out into the night, his heater on full so his leather seats will warm up. On his way to see Steve.

* * *

_As New York’s attention turns to the murder trial of the year, talk show hosts like Oprah and Ellen DeGeneres to celebrities like Chris Hemsworth and Brad Pitt have all voiced their opinion. Today we want to discuss how public opinion can affect a case and is it constitutionally valid to allow a murder trial to go “high-profile.” Attorneys dream of the day they get launched from behind their desks and into the Hollywood limelight, but does this affect Due Process? A constitutional right to a fair trial and to be treated with human dignity? Steven Grant Rogers is accused of attempted murder, murder, assault and has a pending civil case regarding the injury to Flash Thompson, a New York University student who was there the fated day he lost two of his friends in an alleged murder. High-profile cases are sexy. They captivate audiences just like episodes of Law & Order but are they constitutionally valid? Keep scrolling to find out more. _

_LawStoodent: A Law Blog For Millennials, “What’s a Due Process and Why Should Steven Rogers Get it?”, 2017._

When Bucky gets to the loft, he bangs on the door. There’s stumbling from the other side of the door. Steve opens it, his hair sticking up every which way. His eyes sleepy and his skin warm from the blankets. Bucky kisses him, eager and frantic.

“Mmf!” Steve allows himself to be pressed back into the loft, Bucky closing the door behind them.

“I need you,” Bucky says, taking his shirt off. He touches Steve’s skin, warm, living and solid. He’s spinning so fast and the only thing that pulls him back to earth is Steve’s skin.

Steve’s already half naked from sleeping. He guides Bucky back into the loft and together they crash onto the bed. His body beneath Bucky’s.

“I’ve had the worst day,” Bucky says. He leans over and kisses down Steve’s sternum. “And I love you so much.”

“Hey,” Steve says, reaching up and grabbing Bucky’s face. “Please talk to me.”

“I don’t wanna talk. I don’t wanna—tell you. It’s awful and you’ll blame yourself.”

Steve frowns. “You not tellin’ me ain’t gonna stop me from blaming myself anyway.”

Bucky stops thrusting his body against Steve’s. He sighs, rolling off Steve and onto the bed. His weight sinks into the foam and he feels like he’s falling through a cloud. “I got kidnapped today.”

“What?!” Steve snaps up, staring down his nose at Bucky with wide, alarmed eyes.

“I’m fine now. It’s fine. I mean—no it’s not fine. It’s a disaster but Tony and I are trying to handle it.” He scrubs a hand over his face, resigned that he’ll just have to tell Steve everything. He can’t hide anything from Steve anymore. His face gives it away, even if he wishes it didn’t. His body yearns for Steve, his approval, his comfort, his very heat. Bucky can’t hide anything from Steve, because it goes against the very nature of his being.

“Talk to me, baby,” Steve says, voice low and soothing.

Bucky rests his head on Steve’s chest, listening to a heartbeat he prays will be there by the end of all this. It’s not fair. It’s not fair to ask Bucky to kill Steve or kill three people. The love of his life? Or his friend and Peter and his family. Peter’s such a good kid. Incredibly smart and kind. He doesn’t deserve to die so young.

“I need to see Jen,” Bucky says. “Norman knows about us. He knows about Tony and if I don’t talk to Jen and get Judge Jameson on our side, people could die.” He leaves out _who_ exactly.

“Is my mom safe?” Steve asks.

“Yes. Perfectly safe. Clint’s—Clint could die if I don’t do something. But if I do, then you could die.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Bucky feels shame for even saying anything. He should’ve come over like nothing had happened, but the world was wound too tight around him, pressing in, peering at him, wondering at every corner if he’d do something horrible, or do something even worse. Kill Peter, May and Clint? Or Steve? How does Osborn expect Bucky to make that decision? It’s an impossible situation with an impossible answer and Bucky can’t be expected to perform the impossible. But he doesn’t have a choice. Not if he can’t get things to start going his way.

“So it’s between me or someone else?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods because he can’t find it in him to say the words aloud.

“Then it’s me,” Steve says. He says it so easy that Bucky gets whiplash. There’s so much good inside him, so much courage. Steve doesn’t want to die, Bucky knows this. But this is the type of person Steve is. It’s not about him. It’s about everyone else. He’s always second. And Bucky doesn’t think that’s fair. There’s not a single selfish bone in Steve’s body—and somehow that’s not fair. He deserves to be selfish after the cruelties he’s experienced.

“I can’t lose you,” Bucky says. Because Bucky has too many selfish bones in his body. “There’ a chance we can save all of you.”

“If you can’t Buck—if it comes down to it,” Steve swallows and for a moment, Bucky sees the fear in his eyes, “then it’s me. Okay?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

“Buck.” Steve pulls Bucky into a hug. He cups Bucky’s head and massages a hand up and down Bucky’s back. “I couldn’t live with myself.”

“Well then let me!” Bucky says, tears stinging his eyes. “It’s not your choice. It’s mine.”

“That’s not fair, Buck. Clint can’t die because of me. He’s innocent.”

“But so are you!” Bucky groans, twirling off the bed and begins pacing. “I can’t choose you because I need you. But I can’t choose them because they don’t deserve this! Peter’s so young and—”

“Parker? Fuck, Bucky! You don’t got a _choice_! It has to be me!”

“Our relationship will be exposed,” Bucky says, because he’s fighting this. He can’t believe he’s fighting this. Peter doesn’t deserve to die. Clint doesn’t. He doesn’t know May, but he knows she doesn’t either. And yet he’s _fighting_ this. With the very man that’s head would be on the chopping block. The world isn’t ironic. It’s just downright cruel. “If I save them, Norman dumps our relationship all over to news agencies. I’ll get disbarred and—and I don’t even care about that. You’ll lose your case and then you go to prison and die.”

“Foggy and Matt can—”

“No. Not even they could help. They’ll be brought into this anyway. Norman’s not an idiot and he knows who we’ve worked with. All my evidence will get discredited and without Peter, we don’t have much of a chance anyway. He’s the star witness. And now Norman’s got him.”

Steve stares at his toes. His bedsheets are rumpled around him, a deep navy expanse that draws attention to how peach his skin is. The flush on his shoulders. The freckles doting his face, his neck. God, his chest. Bucky doesn’t want to live in a world that Steve doesn’t. He can’t do this. He just can’t.

He collapses to the floor and wraps his arms around his shoulders. He digs his nails into skin and tugs, feeling the burn of split skin.

“Hey!” Steve’s at Bucky’s side, fighting Bucky’s arms and yanking them back. “Stop it! Hey! Stop it!”

Bucky stops only because the pain feels good enough that he can focus on it. It wavers in his body, a heat that rises until he can’t take it and then tapers off. A beautiful ebb and flow.

“No matter what happens Bucky, I’m glad I got to know you.” Steve cups Bucky’s face, his thumb caressing back and forth along the cheekbone. “I don’t regret anything. It all led me to you.”

“Don’t just give up,” Bucky says. “You can’t.”

“I’m not giving up. But if things gotta be this way, then they gotta. Sometimes we need accept we’re not in control of our lives as much as we’d like to think. And dying? Well it happens to all of us one way or another. Sure it’s scary. I don’t—I don’t wanna die. But if I can save someone else? It’s—well there’s really no choice, Buck.”

Bucky shakes his head. He pulls Steve into his lap and traces inconsequential pictures into Steve’s back. “I’m a monster.”

“No you’re not.”

“I considered letting them die for you. Because I can’t—Jesus—I can’t bear to see you die.” He kisses the top of Steve’s head, eyes closed. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“You’ll find someone else,” Steve says bluntly.

Bucky nearly chokes on his own tongue. He stares, incredulous.

“I mean, I don’t wanna sound like a shithead but if I die, you’ll eventually move on. We’re not built to remember everything. Time heals our wounds for a reason, Bucky. It’ll heal yours too. And you’ll find a great guy who loves you and you’ll take care of him the same way you’ve taken care of me.”

“No.” Bucky’s voice is absolute, his body shivering. He’s so angry he wants to scream, but he doesn’t want Steve to be on the receiving end of that. It’s not his fault for being so optimistic. For being so good. Bucky knows, practically speaking, that people do move on. But Bucky doesn’t _want_ to move on. Steve’s it for him. Game over. Don’t go past go. The last call. No. Bucky doesn’t want time to heal or another man. He wants Steven Grant Rogers, self-sacrificing, honest-to-God the kindest man on the planet.

“Yes,” Steve says. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Bucky says, throat closing up.

They kiss through salty tears. Bucky doesn’t want anything else in the world. He doesn’t want to _move on_. What person is going to want a disgraced ex-attorney anyway? What job will hire him? No. If Steve dies, Bucky dies too. And it may be dramatic, but Bucky doesn’t want to start a whole new life. He wants this life. The one he’s made with Steve. He’d give up his law license if it meant keeping Steve. Alive.

“Buck?”

“Hmm?”

“Make love to me.”

Bucky brings Steve up to the bed again. He takes his time, unsure if this will be the last time he gets to spend with his kitten. His beautiful, broad, perfect kitten.

Steve puts on a show. He elongates his body, splays his hands on the hollow of his lower belly. He shows off the way Bucky likes it because he knows too. They don’t know if they have a tomorrow. But they know they have tonight.

“You’re the prettiest kitten, you know that? If I could draw, I’d draw you over and over.” Bucky traces his hands down Steve’s stomach, laughing when Steve’s fingers shyly flirt with his.

“I’m glad, Sir.”

“You’ve been the best thing in my life.” He doesn’t want to sound like they don’t get a forever. But if Jameson is bought? If they can’t figure out who to trust in the FBI? They don’t know how deep Norman’s poisonous roots go. One wrong move could cost them everything.

“I wish we could play,” Bucky says and then promptly laughs when he sees the pout on Steve’s face. “What? We don’t got my playroom, Kitten.”

“Just because we can’t play like that doesn’t mean we can’t play at all, Sir.” Steve pushes Bucky back and swings a leg over Bucky’s lap. “I wanna make you feel good, Sir.”

Bucky laughs, his body aflutter while Steve peppers kisses down his sternum and around his navel. He doesn’t waste time in pulling Bucky’s cock out and gives it a few tentative pumps.

Bucky wants to give in, but his brain isn’t here. It’s thinking about all the ways this can go wrong. About Peter and if he’s scared or angry. About how bad this’ll end for Steve if Norman finds out Steve knows. If _Tony_ knows. God, Bucky shouldn’t have told Steve.

“Buck?”

Bucky looks down. There’s a crease between Steve’s brows. He’s sitting between Bucky’s legs and Bucky looks down to the issue. “Oh.” He’s not hard. He hasn’t even felt it, truth be told. “I’m sorry. I—wow this is embarrassing.”

“It’s okay. It’s,” Steve laughs, “kind of adorable? I don’t know. It’s cute for some reason? I mean—I know you’re scared. I’m scared. But you’re so scared that your body is just—on pause? I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to just eat your ass out until you come?” Bucky asks. “We don’t need my dick.”

“I—oh wow. Yes please.”

Bucky spreads Steve’s legs out, trailing his fingers between Steve’s asscrack. “Oh and for the record? I like that you think it’s cute.”

Steve laughs, dropping his head down and moaning when Bucky laps his tongue over Steve’s rim.

Bucky tries to pull all his focus to Steve’s body. He likes the way his kitten mewls when he flicks his tongue inside and gives it a swirl. He loves pressing his fingers against Steve’s balls, rubbing the soft skin around them and squeezing every now and then.

Steve’s moans are a delight when Bucky lets his nails slip down against his ballsack. They sing into Bucky’s ears and it’s a song Bucky will cherish for as long as he lives. He wants to give Steve everything, to go unhurried and not scared. To believe they will have forever. It’s not fair to take this away from Steve. Steve’s being so good, so brave and strong and Bucky’s the one crumbling beneath the ashes of what happened. All Bucky wants to do is love Steve, and the world is determined to keep them apart.

Bucky presses his face harder into Steve, rubbing his nose against the tailbone. He undulates his tongue against Steve’s hole, an onslaught that receives tiny little whimpers in response. God, his body is vibrating now, cock finally waking up. All he needed were those whimpers.

Steve’s limbs tremble around Bucky. He heats Bucky up, their bodies sticky.

“Mmmnng,” Steve mewls out. He grabs his dick but Bucky smacks his hand away.

“If you come, you come untouched.”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Steve bites his arm, rocking back into Bucky’s relentless tongue.

Bucky likes to explore Steve’s body like this. His tongue reaches inside, muscles squeezing and squirming. He likes the textures, how it goes from ripples to smooth. He likes that he can lazily rub Steve’s perineum, letting saliva slip down to make his fingers stroke along it easier. Steve’s skin is already so soft, but with just the tiniest bit of added lube, it’s like silk. He plays Steve like an instrument, one he’s known all his life. Each flick of his tongue is masterfully crafted. Each twitch of fingers and he knows the tune he’ll hear.

Steve whines, pitchy and high. His hips jerk and he fights with wanting to slam his ass back into Bucky and jerk it away.

Bucky holds him there, feeling the way Steve’s body seizes. He’s coming. Hands reach out to steady hips and Bucky doesn’t stop letting his tongue berate Steve’s body. Muscles squeeze against him and then Steve’s leg is shooting out and he’s twisting.

“Hey! I wasn’t done!” Bucky wipes his mouth, mirth sparkling his eyes.

“Punish me for it then.”

“Oh you want that?” Bucky asks, cocking his head to the side. “C’mere little Kitten, daddy’s got something for ya.” He reaches out, trying to snatch Steve but he’s quick.

Steve vaults off the bed and runs, naked, laughing into the heart of the loft.

“Oh you little shit!”

They chase each other, Bucky’s pants now off because they were slowing him down. He’s hard, dick pounding with each beat of his heart. They get to the couch and Steve’s on the other side, laughing.

“You get over here you little brat.”

“No!” Steve shimmies to the front of the couch when Bucky goes behind it. “Gotta catch me first.”

Bucky leaps the couch and nearly falls over when the couch nearly topples form his weight.

“Shit!” Steve scampers away, a cartoon of himself, all flushed and dick flopping between his legs.

This is how it should be. They shouldn’t fear death, or an invisible timeclock that counts down their minutes. Bucky shouldn’t have to fear the rising sun or the days to come. They should just _be_. And yet they can’t.

Bucky catches Steve when he pretends he’s worn out and leaning over. He charges into Steve’s stomach and picks him up much like a sack of potatoes. Steve squeals in delight, twisting and trying his best to tickle Bucky.

“Hey hey hey!” Bucky tosses Steve onto the bed. “That’s five swats for making me break a sweat chasin’ you.”

Steve wiggles his ass in the air, his beautiful eyes blinking their incredibly dark lashes. “I guess I deserve it.”

“Damn right you do.” Bucky yanks Steve into his lap and lovingly caresses over Steve’s ass. “God I love your ass.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky lets his fingers trace up and down it softly, watching gooseflesh rise and the hairs on Steve’s neck stand on end. He likes the way Steve trembles from the chill, the way his body relaxes and his breathing slows.

Bucky hits him light, more for show than anything. It’s enough to leave a cute pink mark and Bucky decides he’ll kiss the spot after he’s finished. “This okay?”

“It doesn’t even hurt.”

“I don’t want it to hurt. I only want you to feel good.”

“I love you, Buck.”

Bucky kisses between Steve’s shoulders before giving him another quick swat, this one just a tiny bit harder than the first one. He rubs at the reddening spot, his fingers careful of the heating skin. Bucky’s eyes gloss over and he thinks about the first time he’d done this. He’d nearly beaten Steve and remembered the bruises. But Steve had needed it, and Bucky had given it. He doesn’t want to fear that kind of scene with Steve because of their impending doomsday. He wants to give Steve whatever he needs. Hard or soft. He’d like that he didn’t care so much, but sometimes harder scenes work harder on Bucky’s nerves. He’s always exhausted and needs to hold Steve as much as Steve needs to be held. This is easier for his tired mind. But he’d still give Steve whatever scene he needed because he’s _Steve_. And no matter what happens, Bucky had the honor to be his Dom.

After Steve’s fifth swat, Bucky rolls him onto the bed, ass exposed to the air. He kisses the red mark, worships it with the tip of his nose.

Steve sighs, his legs spreading so Bucky can get between them.

“I’m gonna worship this ass,” Bucky says laughing. “Fucking bubble butt of perfection.”

“Oh my God.”

“Shh, Kitten. Lemme enjoy you.”

Steve sighs, happy and rests his cheek on his arm. “Yes Sir.” He speaks with a wispy tone, one that signals he’s either too content or not all there. Bucky can’t tell the difference right now, and honestly? That’s fine. They don’t need to be anything but what they are.

Bucky licks at the heated skin, his hands tracing around what look to almost be fingerprints. He hadn’t hit hard, but Steve’s skin is so sensitive. That Irish gene that flushes him so easily. Bucky wants to know what Steve looks like out under the sun, lying on a beach. They’ve only known each other in cold weather. They haven’t gotten to experience each season together, and Bucky finds himself wanting to be sweating nearly to death in the middle of Central Park with Steve, both tanning and lounging around in their swim trunks with books or scrolling their phones idly. He wants warm nights where it’s too hot to cuddle but they stick together anyway.

“I can’t lose you,” Bucky says, his body spent. Mind taking over. He can’t do this anymore. He wants to. They only have so much time if something goes wrong, but he _can’t_ do it anymore. He wipes his eyes before he lets tears well up. Sitting back, he watches Steve twist until he’s sitting in front of Bucky, his hands wrapping around Bucky’s shoulders. Their noses brush together and Steve lets his forehead rest atop Bucky’s. “I’m too selfish. I can’t give you up.”

“It ain’t over till it’s over, Buck. Maybe things’ll work out.”

“But if they don’t? What am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to make this call? Expose us, you? Let you die?”

Steve frowns. Bucky doesn’t want to ruin his night, but he already has. It pulls at his heartstrings and he can hear them snap like broken violin chords. It’s the same song and dance since the beginning of the night but Bucky can’t stop fixating. He’s so worried about the loss of time that he keeps letting it all waste away because he’s so _focused on the loss of time_.

“I don’t want you to lose your license. Out of all that, that’s what I think about the most. You havin’ to deal with that. I mean, death is death, but living through something like that is awful.”

Bucky smirks and kisses Steve on the shoulder.

“So I guess there’s only one option, Buck.”

“What’s that?” Bucky asks, caressing Steve’s face because he can.

“You don’t let Norman win.” Steve kisses Bucky’s palm, soft and reverent. “You get to Jameson, and you tell him everything. Jen too. I know she’ll help. And this guy Luke? He’s a bartender but I think he knows a lot of shit too. I think he could help too.”

“Luke, huh?”

Steve nods. “He helped me. So—can’t hurt to ask.”

Don’t lose. The words seem so simple. The plan itself, so simple. But Bucky thought he had a simple plan once. Get the guy with more money. Get Tony to protect them. To save them. But it’s never been about _other_ people. Bucky’s been so focused on others being the hero that he forgot what he could do. Until Norman exposes him and he loses his license, he’s a mother _fucking_ attorney. He’s smart, he can run five different plans through his mind at once _and_ still be thinking about legal precedent. He can quote a case he read once in law school. Norman has money. Tony has money. But Bucky has his smarts. And most importantly, Steve believes in him.

Steve may be Bucky’s hero, but Bucky is Steve’s hero. So get to Jen. Get to Jameson. Find this Luke guy and see if he’d help. There’s a plan here, Bucky just has to stop thinking about time and remember that Steve’s worth risking it all for.

* * *

_MSNBC @MSNBC – 3h_

_BREAKING: Norman Osborn to donate 2 million dollars to NYU for student science grants. on.msnbc.com/1SRKK12_

Bucky doesn’t want to leave Steve’s loft. Steve’s here and he’s warm and sleeping. His breaths are deep and effortless. Eyes closed. A blanket of dark lashes lovingly caressing high cheekbones. A freckle right to their side. Bucky wants to kiss it.

So he does.

Soft, butterfly shy, but a kiss all the same. Steve doesn’t stir. Bucky’s heart is so full it could explode. His mind is so scared it could shut down. This is the life he needs to save. This good, honest and brave life. This kind and gentle creature. There’s a purity in Steve that Bucky can’t find in the world anywhere else. It’s bold, unafraid to explore both sides of the human condition. Both good and bad. Steve internalizes his darker side as something that wants to serve, to please another being because he can’t find it in himself to be selfish. Bucky just wishes for once in Steve’s damn life he’d find a way to be selfish. It’d be so easier if Steve was selfish. The backup plan wouldn’t be so painful. Even if three lives died.

“Christ.” Bucky rubs his hands over his face. He _hates_ himself. Three lives. One life. He doesn’t want to make that choice. A weak person would make this choice—to let others die so he could continue loving the one he’s with. Bucky is a weak person. He wishes he weren’t. He wishes he could be like Steve. Giving, compassionate—selfless. Bucky thought he was. A Dom gives himself up for his sub. But maybe deep down, Bucky had been lying to himself.

He kisses Steve’s shoulder, letting his lips trace soft, sleep-warm skin.

Steve does stir, a flick of a sleepy hand comes up to shoo Bucky away. But Bucky doesn’t go away. He doesn’t want to leave yet. His cock is hard and he’s rocking against Steve’s gorgeous, supple, _bitable_ ass. It’s the gem of Steve’s body, the apple of Bucky’s eye—whatever stupid poetry Bucky can think of to compare Steve’s delectable ass to.

“Buck,” Steve whispers, eyes still closed. “M’sleepin’.”

“I wanna fuck you,” Bucky says. “Can I, Kitten? Can I use your body?”

Steve hums, wiggling his ass into Bucky’s hard cock. “I wanted you to last night.”

“I want to now. Last night was just hard for me.” Bucky slips his hands around Steve’s naked body to cup his soft cock. He plays with the foreskin, rubbing it back and forth and Steve mewls. “I just love this body so much, Kitten. Lemme use it. It’s mine, right? Lemme use it.”

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “Yes, Sir yes.”

Bucky slicks up a finger with saliva and rubs at Steve’s hole. He’s needy and selfish—and honestly that’s fine right now. He’ll reflect on his vices when he’s not throbbing between his legs. Steve’s just too pretty. It’s a crime not to mess him all up. Bucky wants to claim him, own him, worship him. Defile him. He wants to paint white ribbons atop Steve’s body, to trace his cock around sleepy, swollen lips.

“God you’re just so pretty. Where do you get off lookin’ so pretty, huh? Can’t control myself.”

Steve laughs. He pulls a pillow closer hugging it, eyes still closed. “I like you like this.”

“Good. Cause I do too.”

Bucky pushes a finger into Steve and smirks when Steve’s body relaxes, falling further into the bed. Bucky can’t imagine how expensive this bed was. Why does Tony even have this place? Does he even use it? Who buys a bed this comfortable and doesn’t use it? People with money are weird.

Bucky nibbles Steve’s neck, his tongue dancing atop the skin, shy whispers between his lips.

Steve sighs, elongating his neck so Bucky can keep nibbling up and up and up until he’s kissing Steve’s jaw.

“You’re mine, right?” Bucky asks, because possession is suddenly important to him. He wishes he had a collar for Steve’s neck. It’s long and begging to be claimed. He wants to mark it all up, claim it, prove to the world that Steve’s Bucky’s and Bucky’s alone.

“Yes,” Steve says. He’s still adamant about sleeping because his eyes haven’t once opened.

Bucky gently pulls Steve’s cock back so he’s working it between Steve’s legs. It’s half-hard and the foreskin is gently receding back, exposing the prettiest cockhead Bucky’s ever seen. He wants to trace his lips over it, kiss it gently and give it a few good licks.

So he does. Because he can. Because Steve’s his. He gets between Steve’s legs, lapping at Steve’s pretty little cock like it’s the sweetest lollipop Bucky’s ever tasted.

Steve squirms, his little throat making dainty, soft noises that sound more miffed than pleasurable. But this body belongs to Bucky too, so he doesn’t stop.

He sucks Steve’s cock into his mouth, humming happily around it.

Steve jerks his hips back, a breathy curse word slipping past his lips.

“Okay, fine-fine. I’ll just fuck you.” Bucky crawls back up, kissing Steve’s shoulders and pumping his fingers in and out of Steve’s perfect ass. It’s warm, safe and like coming home. Bucky’s protected when he’s next to Steve, and he knows Steve feels the same. They blanket each other, their own shields from the world.

Bucky’s so hard he’s trembling. He pushes his cock up next to his fingers, eager and excited.

Steve just moves a leg up, still holding onto a white pillow. Eyes screwed shut but a crinkle is between his brow. He’s trying so hard not to act like he’s not enjoying it. Like his sleep is disturbed and Bucky’s to blame. He’s such a pretty little liar.

“I don’t have a condom,” Bucky says. “That okay?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky wishes he had lube. He was an idiot for not thinking about this when he’d been packing up his things but at the time, he’d been so focused on the possibility of losing Steve that he wasn’t _thinking_ about being _with_ Steve.

“I don’t have lube.”

Steve sighs, a sharp tone to the way he does it too. Bucky’s almost fearful that he’s pushing too hard.

“We don’t have to—”

“Just shove it in me, God.” Steve clutches the pillow tighter, another indignant sigh past his lips. “I like it when it hurts.”

“I know. But I still ask. I’m always gonna ask.” Because that’s the type of Dom Bucky is. He doesn’t assume. He doesn’t believe that just because they’ve done something in the past makes it okay for the future. Things change. People mull over experiences. They determine if they’ve liked it or not. Steve is a person. He’s entitled to deciding what he’s done before isn’t something he wants to do again. And he’s still hell-bent on sleeping, which Bucky doesn’t think rough sex is going to help him achieve that at all.

Steve opens his eyes, neck craning so he can face Bucky. He looks to Bucky’s lips, then up to his eyes. He stares, and Bucky stares right back, desperation inside him. He wants to know what Steve’s thinking.

“I love you,” Steve says.

Bucky puffs out a breathy laugh. He was expecting something profound or terribly mushy. Maybe a big long revelation about how Steve’s madly in love and Bucky’s the best thing that ever happened to him so _of course_ he’s always going to be okay with no condoms or lube, but those three little words are so much better. They convey more than a long monologue ever could. Steve trusts Bucky. He loves Bucky. He _knows_ what Bucky’s thinking and that’s the way he responds to it. Because that’s how Steve communicates. He’s all absolutions and simple. Steve doesn’t see the world in its complicated forms. He knows it’s complicated, but he chooses to interpret as simple. Save a girl. Fall in love. Win a murder trial. Save a life. He doesn’t think about the complicated because to him, there’s no choice. Win or lose. Yes or no. Right or wrong.

“God—I love you too,” Bucky says before pushing himself inside Steve.

Steve’s muscles protest and his neck and shoulders flush red. He’s trembling, squeezing the pillow harder. Bucky knows he’s fighting off the pain. He can see wetness dampen his long lashes.

Bucky reaches around to stroke Steve’s cock, gentle, soft caresses.

Steve’s shoulders relax. He snuggles into the pillow and takes a deep breath.

“You still good?” Bucky asks, because he will always ask. It doesn’t matter how much he wants to ruin Steve, make him scream, make him Bucky’s. He will _always_ ask.

“Use me, Sir.”

Given the greenlight, Bucky rocks back and forth. He breathes hard, kissing Steve’s neck, nibbling a delicate shoulder that exposes itself from white sheets. He thrusts in short bursts. He likes it like this, the sensation of Steve’s muscles wrapping around him, squeezing and pulling him. It’s a game, and one that Bucky would go mad on if he could, given the time.

Which he doesn’t have.

He wraps an arm around Steve, shoving his cock in harder, smacking his balls against the curve of Steve’s ass.

Steve gasps, his head lolling back before he grabs the pillow again and squeezes it for all it’s worth. He’s hard between his thighs, but Bucky won’t touch him anymore. He lost that chance when he decided it was too early for a blowjob.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ tight, Kitten. Who made you so perfect for me, huh?” He kisses Steve behind the ear, smiling when he hears a delighted little giggle. “Gotta send your ma flowers.”

“Shh, no talk about her please.”

“What? Don’t like me talking about your parents fucking while we’re fucking?” Bucky’s an ass. But the shade of red Steve turns is more than worth it. He barks out a laugh before bringing a finger over one of Steve’s pink nipples. “Okay-okay. No more parent talk.”

“I’m gonna die,” Steve says through a smile. “Red on that one.”

“Fine,” Bucky sighs out. He pushes Steve into the bed and spreads his legs out. Steve said use him, so he’s going to. Upright, he slams harder into Steve, earning tiny little mewls that sound just like the kitten Steve is. He takes his fingernails and digs into Steve’s side. He wants to see all the ways he can mark Steve’s sensitive skin up. He leans over, biting where shoulder meets neck.

Steve hisses but doesn’t push Bucky away.

When Bucky pulls back up, there’s a perfect outline of his teeth, red and angry along Steve’s pale skin.

“Wish I brought something to beat you with.”

Steve laughs. “Me too.”

“You want that, huh? Me to mark you all up?” He lets his cock slide out to the rim before shoving back inside, quick and uncaring.

“Fuck! Y-yes.” Steve grits his teeth, his face flushing red as it presses into the pillow. “I want you to beat me.”

Bucky doesn’t like using fists. He finds it too much like actual abuse, so he doesn’t. He grabs Steve’s skin though, tugging and letting his nails slice skin as he thrusts his cock inside Steve. His chest is warm, body sizzling while pleasure strokes through him.

Steve shoves his face into the pillow and Bucky’s sure he’s just screamed into it.

“This okay?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods.

“No, Kitten. Verbal only, please.”

“Yes,” Steve says. “Just keep going.” Steve rocks back into Bucky, his hungry ass eager to please Bucky. He clutches tight, his muscles working into a flutter around Bucky’s cock.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky sighs out, head rolling back. “I love it when you do that.” He digs his nails down into Steve’s back, watching angry red lines rise from the top of his shoulders to the dip above his ass.

Bucky drops sideways, still thrusting quick and sharp into Steve. He pulls Steve back into him, thumbing a nipple until it’s hard. “I wanna bite these,” Bucky whispers into Steve’s ear. “Put pretty red lines all over your body.”

“Fuck,” Steve whispers out. “Yes, yes please.”

Bucky slips out of Steve and yanks Steve by the hips so he’s on his back. Bucky laps down on a nipple, his other hand busy on Steve’s other one.

Steve whines, jerking his hips into Bucky. He gets his cock between them and rubs up and down.

“Mmm, no.” Bucky pulls up to kiss Steve on his red lips. “You don’t get to come. Just me.”

Steve pouts but doesn’t say anything else.

“Good boy.” Bucky pets Steve’s head before dropping back to abuse a nipple. He sucks it into his mouth, swirling a tongue around it before biting down hard.

Steve shrieks, his hands cupping Bucky’s face.

Bucky doesn’t sooth it, he just lets go and turns his attention to the other one, doing the same.

Steve jerks his hips, desperate to find Bucky for friction, but Bucky keeps shying his body away. He straddles Steve, taking Steve’s cock in his hand, a brow quirked.

Steve goes utterly still.

“Said I wanna mark you everywhere.”

“Oh shit,” Steve gasps out.

“Tell me you don’t want it. Use your safeword?”

Steve shakes his head.

“So you’re good?”

Steve nods. “Green.”

Bucky makes his way slowly down Steve. He bites taut abs, the round, perky pecs of Steve’s chest. He twists nipples and licks at ticklish ribs. Steve’s hips are protruding, eager and shivering. He nibbles on them softly, careful not to hurt bone. He looks up at Steve’s face one more time. “Last chance, Steve.”

Steve nods again.

Bucky takes Steve’s cock into his mouth, he lets teeth flirt with the foreskin, dragging it back and forth with his canines.

Steve whimpers, his body shaking.

Bucky bites down softly, waiting for the moment Steve can’t take it anymore. He knows Steve likes pain, but that doesn’t mean he wants to push Steve to a limit where he finds a pain he doesn’t like. Bucky sucks Steve’s cock, looking up at the way Steve’s got his fingers in his mouth. He’s biting down on them. trembling, face and chest flushed red. God, he’s a fucking sunset in the early morning and Bucky couldn’t adore him more.

Bucky rubs the inside of his cheek over Steve’s tip before nibbling again. He presses a canine down into the slit and Steve yelps. So Bucky bites just a bit harder. He drops Steve’s wet dick from his mouth, biting his own lip. “That okay?”

Steve nods vigorously. His cock red with bite marks along the tip and down the shaft.

“You’re doin’ so good, lettin’ me use you.”

“Wanna be good,” Steve says, “for you.”

“You are good for me.” Bucky takes Steve’s ankles and folds them up to Steve’s chest. He slips his cock inside again, ramming hard and slapping skin against skin. He wants to come. To paint Steve with his seed. Heat rises easily inside him. He’s so pent up and eager. He uses Steve’s body just like he wants to. Fast and urgent.

Steve’s got his eyes closed, mouth slack.

Bucky pulls out when he feels himself start to come. He jerks himself off over Steve’s torso. He pants heavily, watching himself spray white ribbons against peach skin. He slicks a finger up with it and brings it to Steve’s lips, tracing them before dipping it inside.

Steve sucks, his eyes round and worshipful.

“Do you want my cock in your mouth, Kitten?”

Steve nods.

Bucky climbs up Steve’s body, trailing his reddened cock against Steve’s pretty swollen lips. He slips his cock inside only to pull it back out again, tracing his perfect mouth.

Steve whines in disappointment.

“Shh, Kitten. Be a good boy for me. Lemme fuck your mouth the way I want to.”

Bucky wants to film the way Steve’s eyes gloss over when he gets his Dom’s cock in his mouth. The way he relaxes his jaw, how he breathes soft and slow. Bucky lets his cock linger on Steve’s tongue, sliding it back and forth gently, in no rush to get hard again. He’s not even sure if he wants to. He just knows this is his baby and Steve loves to have his mouth around a cock.

“God,” Bucky whispers out. “I love you so much.”

Steve hums, suckling on Bucky’s tip. He brings his hands up and grabs Bucky’s hips, a curling smile at the corners of his lips.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_. He’s so pretty like this. Eyes glossy and wet from tears. Cheeks flushed. Brow just ever so slightly pinched. Bucky can feel his cock twitching inside Steve’s mouth. He gasps when Steve takes his tongue and gently laves it against Bucky’s tip.

“Kiss it, Kitten.”

Steve does.

“Again.”

Steve does.

“Lick it.”

Shy kitten licks greet Bucky and they’re more powerful than when Steve’s mouth swallows him all down. They send jolts of pleasure through him, a fire in the wilderness. It ravages his body, bending his spine, squeezing his toes. He lets out a shaky breath, watching Steve look up at him, watching the way he licks so shy.

“Fuck,” Bucky says through a whisper. He lets Steve explore his hardening cock.

Steve holds its base in one hand, his eyes closed, his nose rubbing up and down it before he takes it back into his mouth. He worships it the way he worships anything that belongs to Bucky. His tongue is a prayer, whispering everything it desires and Bucky gives it. He’s hard again, pounding with the rhythm of his heart.

“Open your mouth,” Bucky says. He slips inside, letting his cock hit the back of Steve’s throat. He can feel muscles spasm around him, tiny little gurgles escaping swollen red lips. He fucks into Steve’s mouth slow and steady. “Want me to feed you baby?”

Steve hums, delighted.

“Fill you up with my come, huh? Get you full and happy?”

A tear slips down Steve’s eyes and he wraps his hands around Bucky to squeeze at his ass.

“Yeah that’s right, play with my ass, baby. You can touch me. Let me come in your pretty mouth.”

Steve slips a finger down Bucky’s rim, giving it a gentle swirl.

Bucky’s body shivers and his eyes struggle to stay open. He rocks into Steve’s mouth, spreading his legs so Steve can massage at his rim. He wants more, wants Steve’s fingers to spread him wide and fill him up. He reaches behind himself, encouraging Steve to do just that. “Fill me up baby. Wanna come so hard in you.”

Steve gets three fingers into Bucky before Bucky feels like he’ll come again. He fucks into Steve’s mouth, harder and stronger now. Steve’s lips are swollen red and a bruise is starting to form at the corner of his mouth. A tiny, tiny little purple thing that Bucky couldn’t be prouder of.

He comes in Steve’s mouth, and Steve eagerly gulps it down, a pleased little hum as he gets to drink his Dom’s seed.

Bucky lets Steve suckle after he stops jerking his hips, cock softening. He likes the way Steve shyly licks at the tip, how he looks up at Bucky to keep making sure it’s okay. It starts to hurt, too much stimulation and Bucky’s body is _tired_ , but he doesn’t want to take this away from Steve. He bites his lip and coaxes Steve to keep going, just so he can watch the way Steve’s eyes flutter, tears slowly falling from the sides.

“Here,” Bucky says, pulling away. He nestles back into the bed and brings Steve over to him to latch on again. “You can keep going. You’ve been so good.”

Steve holds Bucky’s soft cock inside his mouth, eyes closing again. He reaches back for a pillow but his arms can’t reach. It’s a pitiful sight, but too comedic that Bucky can’t help but laugh before getting the pillow Steve’s reaching for and putting it in Steve’s hand.

Steve puts the pillow over Bucky’s thigh and then rests his head on it, eyes closing again.

Bucky runs his fingers through Steve’s hair idly, unable to take his eyes off the way Steve’s face starts to pale out again, no more flushing, no more tears. He wonders what makes Steve cry. Is it their circumstance? Something more? Something deeper? He wants to ask, but Steve looks so soft and disturbing that now would ruin Bucky. He tables it for another day, his heart squeezing when he thinks about their doomsday clock.

He looks over to the clock on the wall. It’s nearly 10AM. Day one is about to lose its morning and then it’ll be afternoon. Then evening. Then day two. Bucky feels tears well in his eyes. He brushes them away, trying his best to keep quiet. He doesn’t want to disturb Steve. He’d been so good. He deserves all the rest he can get.

With a shaky hand, Bucky scratches down Steve’s scalp and to his neck. Steve hums and Bucky nearly yelps at how much that sensation shoots into his cock. He can’t take it anymore. He doesn’t want more. All he wants is to hold Steve, to tell him how much he loves him in case they don’t get another chance.

This isn’t fair.

Bucky’s angry, breathing uneven and shaky. Norman shouldn’t dictate Steve’s life like this. He shouldn’t get to decide how long or short Steve’s life is. He shouldn’t _get_ to do anything in Steve’s life and yet here he is, pulling the strings behind the scenes. They’re just marionettes to him, pretty little dolls meant to be played with. Open scene. End scene. Curtain call.

Steve’s eyes open and he pulls up, thankfully dropping Bucky’s cock. He scoots close to Bucky, resting his head on Bucky’s chest. “You know—I can feel you.”

“What?”

“I can feel you when you’re angry. Like that.”

“Oh,” Bucky puts his hands over his face, “God—I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“It’s okay.” Steve kisses Bucky’s chest, rubbing his nose along the skin in little circles. “I’m angry too.”

“I just can’t stop thinking about what’ll happen. I know we’ve got a last-ditch plan but—I don’t know, Steve. I just—I don’t know. I thought we hand this when we got Tony but—”

“Hey,” Steve says, grabbing Bucky’s stubbled chin, “don’t talk like that. We have a plan. We’ll do what we can and that’s all we can do.”

“I love you so much,” Bucky whispers. He can’t stop the tears from falling so he gives up fighting them. If anyone has to see him cry, he’s glad it’s just Steve. “I know it’s stupid and sappy but—I’m not ready to lose you. I’m not ready to, maybe ever lose you.”

Steve offers a small curl of his lips. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s face. “I know. I know it’s hard to focus on being optimistic when—well when we’ve got that coming our way. But. We have to. I’m not ready to lose you either. And I know I believe in God but,” his eyes fill with tears, “I’m so scared I’m wrong and I’ll forget everything I’ve ever been. Everything we’ve ever shared.”

“Steve—”

“No. Just let me talk. Please.” Steve grabs his pillow off Bucky’s thigh and holds it to his chest. He looks so young like this, nose pink, eyes wet and cheeks glistening with tears. “My biggest fear is forgetting you. Forgetting Sam. My whole life. And I know I won’t know the difference. I know—I won’t _be_. But I’m so—I don’t like questioning my faith. But the closer I get to dyin’ the more afraid I become. I don’t want to be wrong.” He drops his face into the pillow.

“I don’t think someone like you could ever be wrong.”

“But you don’t believe in God.” The words hit Bucky like a truck. Steve delivers them with absolute conviction. A dead weight. A final act.

“Steve.” Bucky doesn’t know how to speak the words he needs to. He wishes more than anything he could find something inspiring, something confident. But he doesn’t believe in God. He doesn’t believe something could put humans on Earth to let them maim, rape and murder each other. He doesn’t believe something could just walk away from the evil that happens and just say it’ll all be okay in the end. Death scares Bucky too for the same reasons it scares Steve. He doesn’t want to forget Steve. He doesn’t want to forget the life he’s had. But death is an absolute, just like Steve’s words. Death, one day, comes for everyone. Bucky can only hope Steve’s right. That there _is_ a god that still loves them after the horrors they’ve done. That there is redemption. A purgatory to atone. A god to forgive. Bucky doesn’t know what there is after death. Maybe they don’t even need a god to have something beyond.

“I don’t know what I believe, Steve. But just because I don’t know doesn’t mean you’re wrong. I want you to be right. If things—if we don’t get another day together I want something to love you where I can’t.”

Steve clings to Bucky, tears warm and dripping to Bucky’s shoulder.

“Just because I don’t know what’s out there doesn’t mean you should ever give up believing. This isn’t over. You said it yourself. We just have to try. I’ll find Luke. I’ll talk to Jen. There’s still a way we could do this. We just have to be careful.”

“And mind our deadline.”

“Yeah. That.”

They both fall into silence, both stuck on the impending doom that looms over them like a black cloud. It creeps in closer with every minute that passes them by. It just pisses Bucky off more. How dare Norman rob them of even the three days he’d given them! Fuck him. _Fuck_ him.

“I need to get up,” Bucky says. He unfurls Steve from around him and swings his legs over the bed. “I’ve gotta get going on this. I can’t be—I can’t waste time.”

“I know.” Steve stretches out atop the bed. Red lines shiver and move with his skin. Bitemarks purple and heal slowly. He’s a living piece of artwork and Bucky couldn’t be prouder. He sits up, cracking his neck. “Will you come back tonight?”

“This place was supposed to protect you,” Bucky says, “and now I feel like it just did the opposite.”

“So then I guess it’s really not a big deal if you come back?”

Bucky leans in to kiss Steve’s lips. They’re salty and chapped and Bucky licks into Steve’s mouth because he can. He tastes himself, come and sweat and skin. He kisses Steve more, grabbing Steve’s cheeks and pulling their bodies close.

Steve’s fingers find Bucky’s face and they lock together, a display of desperate affection and fear. An unknown future. A risk. A gamble. But it’s worth it. Steve is worth it. Every minute that passes by is a minute Bucky will get Norman back for. He will find a way to not only bring that man down, but destroy everything he’d built. Bucky will make it his mission to ruin Norman the way he’s ruined Steve.

And Bucky’s coming out swinging.


	8. Motion to Dismiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the clock runs out, Steve and Bucky make their final move. Contacting Judge J Jonah Jameson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing this story since 2016. I know I took a half year break on it, but here we are. 2016, 2017, 2018. This story has been there basically the entirety of my fandom life with Marvel. HUGE thank you to those who've been with me from the start. The ones we picked up along the way. And those of you who waited patiently for it to say "complete.' 
> 
> I am immensely proud of this fic and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it.

 

_‘As the days grow closer to the start of Steven Rogers’ trial for double homicide, we review some of the most famous cases in New York history. Mob bosses. Serial killers. Terrorists. New York has seen them all. Find out who the most frightening of these criminals are tonight at 9. I’m Sherleen Allicot and this is ABC 7, Eyewitness News.’_

_-Shirleen Allicot, ABC 7 Eyewitness News, New York, New York (2016)._

Bucky sits in Stark Industries’ boardroom. It’s oblong with sprawling windows and has none of the excitement it had the first time. Peter isn’t sitting in here blushing over being introduced to a boy. Foggy isn’t laughing about the number of gay men in his life. Stark sits on his laptop, well, if one can call it that. It’s holographic and he can push and pull floating files, streams of data, and whatever else he wants around. It’s more of a flourishing dance than a man sitting on a computer.

“Found your Luke-bartender. His name’s Luke Cage. Interestingly enough, he knows Matt Murdock. There’s a nice in,” Tony says without taking his gaze off the way-too-fancy laptop. “Think he may be a good ally to have with you.”

“How’d you figure this out?” Bucky asks.

“Uh, Facebook. They’re tagged in a few pictures together and from the comments seem friendly enough.”

“Huh.” Bucky sits back, looking out at a bird flying between skyscrapers. Birds are as regular to cities as the people who inhabit them, but Bucky will never forget the true place for a bird is the wilderness, trees and winds. People built up a city around their land and the birds, resilient, learned to adapt. Bucky had to adapt too. At each turn, he had to change and morph his plan to keep Norman off his back. He spoke to Tony only on secured connections. He didn’t use his own phone—Stark Tech only. Same for Steve. It’d been nearly most of day one, but getting everything ready was worth it. Bucky even staged a meltdown at his home where he threw around some glasses to make it look like he was still considering the two choices.

Peter, Clint and May—or Steve.

Bucky would _not_ be making that choice. Not ever.

“Okay, looks like I got a date with a beefy black man,” Bucky says.

“If that’s what you wanna call it.” Tony shoves his laptop away and it folds into itself, holographic screens gone. “Bring Matt though. I mean, he’s cute right?”

“Way too fucking creepy for me,” Bucky says, standing. “But he’s got a nice ass.” Not nearly as nice as Steve’s though.

Tony hums and taps away on his phone. “You’ve got the address of the bar. Get Matt and head over there. Hopefully, he can tell you when Jen comes in. And _hopefully_ , that won’t be too late.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Or maybe he can contact her, like they’re just gonna hang out or something.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks guy in the chair,” Bucky says to a bewildered Tony. “Uh—it’s from a movie?”

“Right.” Tony shoves his hands into his three-piece suit’s pockets. “Uh—go forth young Padawan.”

“Yeah. Okay I’ll just see you later.”

“Oh wait!” Tony runs out of the boardroom and into his office. He comes back, huffing from his light jog. “Put this in your ear. Untraceable but it’ll help me hear everything and record. Ya know, evidence and all that.”

“Sure.” Bucky takes the tiny gummy device and sticks it to his ear, it slips into place itself and tickles for a moment and then beeps.

“There, all set.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Bucky claps him on the shoulder before he heads out. It’s nice having a tech guy like Tony on their side. Sure, Bucky still got _kidnapped_ but maybe that was part of Tony’s plan? They had ironclad evidence on Norman now. They just needed to get it into the right hands. Without that, it didn’t matter how strong their case was. They needed someone bigger than them to trust.

They needed Judge J Jonah Jameson.

* * *

Snagging Matt wasn’t hard. He’d been at home, apparently nursing a hangover. Bucky’s honestly surprised the guy even drinks. Matt clutches his ribs when he walks but Bucky thinks it’s because he’s not feeling too well.

“Sorry to make you go to another bar,” Bucky says while they walk toward Luke’s bar.

“It’s fine. I’ll just have coffee.”

Bucky laughs, gently nudging Matt on the shoulder. He wants to tell him about the deadline, but he also thinks the fewer people who know the better. He’ll only fill him in on the Steve parts and that Jen could be in danger too. Matt already knows that if anything happens to Bucky, he needs to be the one to step in. It’s of the utmost importance that Matt stays safe and blissfully ignorant of the horrible ultimatum. That and—Bucky isn’t ready to tell Matt about his relationship with Steve. He’s fairly certain Matt won’t be onboard with it.

“It’s right here—apparently.” Bucky looks down at his phone and then up at the bar. It’s a dive alright. Wouldn’t know it was even there without the assistance of the harsh BUDWEISER sign hidden away in a corner of the window.

Inside is a little better with (mostly) upholstered booths and a line of red barstools. It’s open, only a few patrons around the bar. Most of the rowdier groups are by the billiards. There’s a single bartender and he looks around with blank eyes and muscles for _days_. Weeks. Months. Muscles for months. Bucky’s sweating. He’s not usually so smitten by a man’s looks but the way Luke the bartender stands, muscles on display because he’s got his arms crossed, his soft lips in somewhat a twist of a smirk and a sneer. Bucky would flirt with him if he wasn’t so smitten with Steve.

Once Luke sees Matt, his face melts into somewhat of a smile. He doesn’t relax his arms, but he looks to smirk more than sneer. He walks over to the edge of the bar and Matt greets him by the register.

“Haven’t seen you in a minute,” Luke says.

Matt sighs, grabbing his ribs again. “Been busy.”

Luke looks down to where Matt’s holding and rolls his eyes. Bucky is bewildered by the exchange. He wants to assume it’s because Luke’s a bartender and Matt says he’s hungover. But there’s something more to this—something like a secret that Bucky’s not allowed to be on. Not for his protection, but more like he’s unworthy. He’s not sure if he feels jealous or relieved not to know. Sometimes knowing less is better.

“This is—” Matt says but is promptly cut off.

“I know who he is. Barnes. The attorney. His face’s been on the news all day. The fuck got you arrested?” Luke asks. “Didn’t you think about your client before going off and trying to resist arrest like that?”

“Wow. Uh—it was a misunderstanding. I guess the press is just still covering it because they’re bored.” Bucky’s ears go red. He can feel the heat rush up the back of his neck. The first thing this guy says and at least it’s positive regarding Steve. That has to be something.

Luke frowns and then turns back to Matt. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Can we talk privately?” Matt says.

Luke looks around the bar, his brow furrowed, tongue in cheek. He jerks his head and the pair follows him around the bar and back into the kitchen. “Cooks went home for the day. Talk softly.”

“We need to set up a meeting with Jen and Steve said you know her?” Bucky cuts right to the chase. There’s no use in wasting time when he only has two more days and Norman has his grubby little fingers in every nook and cranny of New York.

“Why?” Luke asks, his brow furrowing even more than it already was.

“Because something really bad is happening in this case and if Jen and Bucky get to the judge—together—they can save an innocent man.” Matt, also cutting to the chase.

Bucky stares at him, his eyes round as saucers. Matt delivered his words with such finality, such finesse that it leaves Bucky in both awe and terror. He wishes he could see Matt in court more often. He’s a wonder. An unassuming blind man who doesn’t need his eyes to know what justice should mean.

“Jesus,” Luke says. He rubs his bald head, sighing heavily. A man that size with a sigh that heavy can only mean one thing. He wants to help, but he’s conflicted. There’s a lot on the line for Jen too and Luke knows it. It’s clear by the way he looks around the kitchen. Bucky likes him already. Protective of friends is an important trait to Bucky. One he hasn’t been doing so well on as of late.

“Please, this isn’t a joke or a trick. I don’t want to contact Jen on phones and risk Norman having her tapped. Steve said this was a safe place. It’s the best thing we’ve got to save him.” And Bucky. And Peter. And Clint. And May. Bucky gulps.

“I’ve had my own bullshit with the law. The press can be deceiving and people can be bought.” Luke looks around before whispering, “I’ll get her to come tonight. I’ll contact Matt if she can’t for some reason.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. He’s not one to believe in miracles, but Steve coming to Luke’s bar on a random whim was a miracle. He’d seen Jen. He’d found an ally. Everything good that could happen, did. And Bucky couldn’t be more grateful.

“Thanks. Thank you so much.” Bucky takes Luke’s big hand and shakes it vigorously.

“Yeah. Now get out of my bar.”

* * *

_Why Do We Love A ‘Good’ Murder?_

_By Min-Na Chen_

_The name Steven Grant Rogers is a household name these days. Whether you’re in California or New York, you know the man’s face. He’s good-looking, polite and his attorney is charming and dangerous all at once. They’re the closest idea we’ll get to a Bonnie and Clyde in the modern era. Allegedly, this man killed two people (claiming to have been protecting Gwen Stacy though she does not corroborate his story). Yet there are Twitter accounts dedicated to Rogers, Tumblr posts about how people would still “let him crush them with his thighs.” So why do we fall in love with murderers? Is it our deeper subconscious trying to express our darkest thoughts? Is violence just part of who we are? Are we so obsessed with death that we actively seek out anything related to it?_

_It's my opinion that it is all of the above. Highly stylized and pervasive news media coverage of real-life murderers and serial killers and their horrible deeds transforms them into what I refer to as celebrity monsters. In order to understand why so many people in society are captivated by murderers and serial killers, it is necessary to examine the social agents and processes that promote them._

_In many ways, murderers or serial killers are for adults what monster movies are for children—that is, scary fun! However, the pleasure an adult receives from watching serial killers can be difficult to admit, and may even trigger feelings of guilt. In fact, my research has revealed that many people refer to their fascination with murderers and serial killers as a guilty pleasure._

_The average person who has been socialized to respect life, and who also possesses the normal range of emotions such as love, shame, pity, and remorse cannot comprehend the workings of a pathological mind that would compel one to abduct, torture, rape, kill, engage in necrophilia, and occasionally even eat another human being. The incomprehensibility of such actions drives society to understand why murderers and serial killers do incredibly horrible things to other people who often are complete strangers. Steven Rogers didn’t know Osborn or Brock, but he allegedly has beaten their heads into unrecognizable pulps, a fury most people are incapable of doing._

_As such, murderers and serial killers appeal to the most basic and powerful instinct in all of us—that is, survival. The total disregard for life and the suffering of others exhibited by murderers and serial killers shocks our sense of humanity and makes us question our safety and security. We become obsessed with the why and the how could they. Pair that with an attractive face, like Rogers’ and you have a national sensation. We do not condone the act, but we are captivated by it. Murderers and serial killers will captivate our minds because of how other they are to the regular person. Celebrity monsters indeed._

_-Min-Na Chen, Why Do We Love a ‘Good’ Murder?, New York Times, (2016)._  

Steve watches Bucky pace for the better part of the hour. His gaze trails left to right, a slow pendulum, a building anticipation that he sees no reprieve from. Bucky’s up in his head, face flushed, brow furrowed. He doesn’t look approachable with his endless pacing and Steve just lets it happen. He’ll burn a hole in the floor where he walks but Steve won’t risk stopping him. He knows the stakes too. He wants this to work out just as badly as Bucky.

They’re so close now. If Judge Jameson is a good man, they can get out of this. They can move on and they can be together. Steve can hold Bucky’s hand in public and he can kiss his face. The future is terrifying for Steve—unsure of what kind of future resides on the other side. But he wants to be confident that it’s with Bucky.

If Jameson is bought. Then he will die. He can’t let Peter suffer for his own mistakes. _Mistakes_. He bites his lip. It wasn’t a mistake to save a girl. Gwen may have gone on a campaign trail to tarnish Steve’s name, but Steve doesn’t hold it against her. She probably has a gun to her head just as much as Steve has one. Peter has one. Bucky has one. _No one_ is safe from Norman’s puppeteering.

Bucky stops pacing and drops in front of Steve. He grabs Steve’s knees and looks up with pink, pouted lips. “I just hate this waiting.”

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Steve says.

“Not if Jameson doesn’t have time to see us.”

“I think an emergency would get him to see you and it is an emergency.” Steve cups Bucky’s face, putting his thumb in the little dimple between his chin. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Bucky sulks. “That makes one of us.”

“Hey.” Steve takes Bucky’s hand. He likes how rough Bucky’s hands are. They aren’t soft and plush but warm, steady and hard. He wants these hands on his body, to touch him and tease him and make a mess of him. Bucky had been so focused on Steve’s hands before. It takes everything to stop wringing them. Steve still does until he feels the cracks in his knuckles, but he’s trying. He wants to stop. He wants to remember this isn’t his fault and he’s just the poor sap that got dragged into it. He wants to be worthy of Bucky’s hands.

Bucky looks at Steve with such reverence. His lips parted, his brow pinched. Steve had been worried once, back when this whole thing started. He wanted it, but he didn’t know how deep it would go. He can’t imagine himself without Bucky now. He doesn’t want to. He trusts Bucky more than he’d expected. Whether it’s the vulnerability of having his life explode into the media or the thought of going down as a murderer—he isn’t sure. But he’s so glad he has Bucky.

“I love you,” Steve whispers.

Bucky smiles and it melts the world away. He cups Steve’s face and presses kiss after kiss to Steve’s lips. “I’m gonna save you. I swear.”

“I know. I believe in you.”

Bucky pulls Steve into a hug and the two fall onto the floor in front of the couch. Kiss after kiss is pressed to Steve’s face. He feels Bucky’s arms around him, the heat from Bucky’s chest, the ebb and flow of gentle kisses that he never wants to feel end.

Steve leans into each kiss. He cherishes each one, clinging to Bucky like his life depends on it.

“I don’t know if I can lie like this,” Bucky suddenly says, and the beautiful, warm moment is crashing down around Steve. Hail on a sunny day.

Steve blinks, his mind unsure of what’s happening. He sees Bucky in front of him. Feels Bucky’s hands. His warmth. But there’s a wall between them. It wasn’t there a moment before, but it’s there now. It weighs against Steve’s chest and he struggles to breathe.

“I think after the case is all over, I’m gonna turn myself in to the disciplinary committee.”

“What?” Steve grabs Bucky’s collar. Their noses barely touching. “Are you insane?!”

“Do you think that Norman is just gonna give up on that? He goes to prison sure but he can release all those pictures and files whenever he wants. I need to get ahead of it. I’d rather lose my license than lose you.”

Steve pouts, crossing his arms. “But then your career would be over.”

“I can get another job, Steve. And if the disciplinary committee knows, then maybe I can get ahead of it. It’s not—it’s not like a death sentence or anything. I could just get fined? But if I don’t tell them before he does, it’ll be a lot worse. We can save Peter and Clint, but I don’t think we can save me.” Bucky looks away, nibbling his lip. “I’ve been thinkin’ about it since I left Luke’s bar. There’s gonna be retaliation.”

Steve sucks in his bottom lip. He wants to protest. He wants to kick and scream and say anything he can to convince Bucky that this is a terrible idea. But there’s the other part of Steve. The tactical, reasonable side. He knows it’s better to admit wrongdoing than let something like the Bar Association find out from someone else. He knows Norman will retaliate. Bucky’s a good man, and he wants to do good things. Telling the Bar is better than hiding. Steve can only imagine the stress he’s caused Bucky with this. The lying. The sneaking around. Bucky’s been so strong.

Steve drops his head on Bucky’s shoulder and sighs. He doesn’t say anything because he knows nothing he says will change the circumstance they’re in. Bucky will do everything he can to get them out of this, and then he will confess to the Bar.

“Do you want any food?” Steve asks instead after the moment ebbs into minutes. “We’ve got time before you meet with Jen?”

“No.” Bucky licks the corner of his mouth before pressing the softest kiss on Steve’s lips. A silken feather that chills Steve’s spine. “I just want you.”

“Sap.” Steve lets Bucky lay him on the floor. He likes when Bucky handles him, all reverent and gentle. A doll to be cherished. A prized possession. He shivers, thinking of himself as a possession. He wants to belong to Bucky. Unequivocally. Signed sealed and delivered.

Bucky’s hands are soft. He traces Steve’s abs, exposing more and more skin as he slowly takes Steve’s shirt off. He peppers kisses down the mounds of Steve’s chest, the valleys, and canyons of his abs. A tongue darts out and laps at the sharp lines of Steve’s hip bones.

Steve gasps, his eyes watering. He loves being loved. He loves being cared for and respected. He loves knowing that Bucky wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want. He _loves_ Bucky. This is what it’s supposed to be like. To know they may like different things, but they love each other equally. They care and think of each other. It had never been like this before. Steve wanted to enjoy Sharon and Peggy but he’d always been nervous. And Brock. Jesus.

That was terrible.

“Hey,” Bucky says, tapping Steve’s cheek. “You in there? I’m just kissing.”

Steve wipes tears from his face and nods. “Y-yeah. I just—yeah.”

Bucky frowns. “What?”

“I went somewhere bad.”

Bucky pulls Steve into his lap and kisses his head over and over. He strokes his hands up and down Steve’s exposed torso, nails wistfully trailing along tender skin. Gooseflesh rises, hair standing on end.

Steve shivers.

“I wanna help you,” Bucky whispers. “Just tell me how.”

“I don’t like thinking about my last—relationship with a guy.”

Bucky’s brow furrows, shadows darkening his eyes. It amazes Steve how he can look so bright and handsome and then morph into something darker, stronger—sinister. But it’s not the type of sinister that Steve cowers in fear from. It’s the type that’s all there only because someone had hurt Steve. It’s the beast that will do anything to protect Steve. Steve loves this face because he knows Bucky would do anything to protect him. He already has.

“I don’t mean to,” Steve says in a soft voice. He wants to keep the volume low. A tender moment deserves a tender setting and Steve can’t risk shattering it with his voice. “I don’t wanna think about him.”

Bucky kisses the pads of Steve’s fingers. He turns Steve so they face each other, both sitting cross-legged on the floor. They’re like school children sharing a secret. The sun filters into the room, bright and unapologetic. It makes Bucky’s face glow, each line from age, each wrinkle around his eye disappears and nothing is left but a youthful child about to tell his friend all the grand adventures they’ll go on one day. When they’re older.

But they are older.

There are bristles on Bucky’s face. There are crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. Lines run deep across his forehead. They are older, and they don’t have to dream about the adventures they’ll go on. They can _go on_ them.

“Think about me,” Bucky says. He brushes his nose against Steve’s, their eyes both fluttering closed. “Think about my voice.” He hums low in his chest and Steve almost moans.

Steve reaches out but Bucky takes his hands and puts them back in his lap.

“Just listen, Kitten.” Bucky’s hands give a little squeeze and then they’re receding. He keeps humming low. It’s a slow tune, one made entirely from Bucky’s mind. Steve likes the slow lilt. The world pauses, listening to his gravely, dark tone.

Steve does moan.

Bucky brushes his nose over Steve’s again. He lets the stubble of his cheek press into Steve’s face, lets his heat linger between them. He mouths over Steve’s cheeks and kisses his lips. Soft, quick kisses that Steve can’t react to.

Steve whines.

“Shh, Kitten. Just listen.” Bucky grabs some of the couch cushions and arranges them on the floor so Steve can lay down. He keeps humming that slow tune, the one where the story never ends and the characters listlessly go about their days. Unabashed. Unafraid. It’s a quiet melody that Steve clings to, obsession taking hold already.

Bucky hums and kisses long Steve’s chest. He laps at a nipple before closing his mouth around it and humming his soft melody.

Steve’s eyes flutter shut.  

The hums travel down Steve’s stomach, a vibration that seeps into his bones and turns them to jelly. He can feel himself sinking into the cushions, shoulders heavier, limbs dead weight clinging to skin. He’s too tight and turning to mush all at once. He lets go, letting Bucky’s humming and soft ministrations take over. And then he’s nothing at all.

Bucky gently undoes Steve’s jeans. He pulls out a soft cock and whispers something against it, his lips trailing and catching sensitive skin. The sensations reach Steve’s heart but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t react. He’s floating in the room, nothing but Bucky’s melody to keep him there.

Bucky’s tongue flicks out and it’s just a shy flick, but it jolts Steve’s bones. They shift, a reminder they exist. Steve doesn’t want them to exist. He wants to fly. Fly with Bucky. Fly with the melody that hums against his hardening cock.

“E-easier,” Steve whispers out, a tone barely unregistered. “Please.”

Bucky presses his lips to the tip of Steve’s cock. He hums soft and slow, his fingers playing with Steve’s balls.

Steve sighs out, tears lining his closed eyes. He listens to the melody filter in and out of his body, an ocean of waves that curl around his cock, his bones, his heart. He feels heat in the pit of his stomach. Eyes too heavy to open but he gets them open a crack and almost sees the glow in his stomach. It’s warm and friendly and shines with the rhythm of Bucky’s humming.

Each run of the melody is ended by Bucky’s hands rolling Steve’s balls between his fingers. He doesn’t suck, he doesn’t lap or lick or nibble. He doesn’t pull or cup or prod. It’s all so soft. So fragile. The moment is thin glass and both their bodies glow from the warmth between them.

Steve rolls his head back, an easy sigh slipping past his lips. He lets his lips curl up when the vibrations reach the base of his pelvic bone. He’d thrust if he could, but his bones are sleeping, his mind quiet and serene. He lets Bucky’s voice carry him through pleasure, clouds, the sky, the universe.

He sees puffy clouds of pinks and greens as he’s carried along Bucky’s tune. Space is quiet, but it’s hardly dark. Stars fill the backs of Steve’s eyes. Planets he’s never seen waft around his body. He lingers there, suspended on a melody. An adventure all their own.

Bucky’s hair is soft and it tickles between Steve’s thighs when he moves to slip his lips up and down Steve’s body. Vibrations pull Steve up and he’s seeing suns crash together, worlds and life like he’s never experienced form, bodies slotting together. Lovers holding hands. Stars shimmering over water so clean it’s a mirror.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his body seizing, his soul snapping back. He comes, a drizzle that oozes down his cock and warms his balls.

Bucky pulls away, his fingers still caressing and rubbing, but his melody halted.

They both watch Steve’s cock gurgle out seed, his torso flushed pink. He relaxes back into the cushions, panting. He wants to see what he’d seen moments before. Stars. Planets. People. But they’re gone. They’ve fallen asleep to the silence and are carried away forever.

“I—I didn’t mean to come.”

Bucky smiles. He reaches down and scoops come onto his fingers before pressing them to Steve’s lips.

Steve licks, eager and willing to do what his Dom wants. It’s salty and bitter—a taste he hates from his own body but loves it from Bucky’s. There’s something more to it than the flavor when it’s his Dom coming into his mouth. A pride that Steve beams with, knowing he’s the reason for his Dom’s smiles, his warmth, his pleasure.

“I thought that was beautiful.” Bucky’s earnest shrug of his shoulders makes Steve’s heart soar.

“I went somewhere good,” Steve says, “somewhere that I’ve never been.”

Bucky stands up and walks over to the kitchen. He grabs a paper towel and drops to his knees beside Steve, cleaning up their mess. “Where?” he finally asks.

“I dunno. I was here and then I wasn’t even on this planet.”

Bucky laughs. “Sounds nice.”

“Do you ever go somewhere?” Steve asks.

Bucky crumples up the paper towel and tosses it aside. It’s nowhere near a garbage can but Steve’ll just scoot it along later. He’s more curious about his question than keeping Tony’s loft clean.

“No. I can’t afford to space out sometimes. I mean—I could if you’re fucking me but—I dunno. I like watching you too much.”

“Have you ever though?” Steve feels a tiny bit of distress sink his heart. He’s boneless and his lashes are still wet. He likes the moments where he wakes up, his body remembering what it is, who he is, where he is. The crash isn’t fun, but he has Bucky, and Bucky’s a stickler for aftercare. Something Brock had never done. But he wants Bucky to feel as good as he does, because Bucky makes him feel so good. He wants to do the same for Bucky.

Bucky nestles in close to Steve, laughing as he pulls Steve’s briefs back over his cock and leaves his jeans opened.

Steve wants to smile, but he finds himself too nervous to.

“Maybe.” Bucky frowns, staring at Steve’s chest, his temple resting on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s—I’m uncomfortable with it.”

Steve bites his bottom lip, nodding. He certainly doesn’t want to make Bucky uncomfortable.

“I just don’t do well as a sub. That’s all. I like making you feel good and I like watching you drop into subspace. I like being here when you come back. So—I’m good. I like what I do and who I am.” He kisses Steve’s shoulder before resting his head back down again.

“I just don’t want to put all of this relationship on you,” Steve admits, guilt squeezing his heart. “I know you work so hard. With us. With my case. I just feel like I don’t do enough for you.”

“I like it this way. Call it a bit of a reverse service kink.” Bucky laughs. “I like giving you what you need. And I love my job so—there is that.”

Steve winces. “And you could lose it.”

Bucky rolls his head away, a large sigh accompanying his motion. “I could. Or I could just get a slap on the wrist. Point is though, let me worry about me. I like worrying about you and you need someone for that. But I don’t. I love that you care and I love that you want to worry but I’m good. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think I could.”

Steve isn’t entirely convinced by the answer. He looks at Bucky’s tired face. The lines that show he’s not a youthful man anymore. He’s just a man. An important one to Steve, but still—just a man. There’s no longing faraway gaze in his stare. He doesn’t ever look lost in a dream or his imagination. Bucky’s reality is the cold reality around them. Steve’s is between fiction and reality. He wavers in and out of both, but not Bucky. Bucky walks a hard line. One that he’s now made clear to Steve that Steve isn’t allowed to follow.

“Well I like servicing too,” Steve says, because it’s the only way he can think to salvage the moment. Make it a game. Bring out the boys that reside in their older hearts. “So, there’s that.”

Bucky cracks his neck and stretches his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m bad at letting you do it.”

Steve smirks. Bucky is terrible at letting Steve service him.

“Wanna now? While we wait for Jen?”

Steve’s already up and stripping out of his clothes. “Still gonna get me that collar?”

Bucky nods as Steve straddles him.

Being naked atop a fully clothed man gives Steve a thrill he’s too in love with to ever let go of. The power he feels from Bucky’s button down. His rumpled tie. The soft fabric of his pants. Each fiber is alit with tantalizing sensations and Steve lets his balls whisper against it, rocking soft just to get himself riled before he’ll pull himself away.

“Can I give you a massage, Sir? Rub your feet?” He kisses Bucky’s lips before slipping away, his cock tingling with want.

Bucky smirks and scoots back up on the sofa. He stretches out, hands tucked behind his head. “Feet.”

Steve kneels on the floor and grabs a tiny bottle of lotion off the coffee table. He usually uses it for his hands but he’d like to use it now too. Peaches and cream waft into the air as he rubs his hands together with the lotion before bringing them over to Bucky’s feet.

Bucky, for all his beauty, does not have pretty feet. But Steve wonders if there’s really such a thing. Bucky’s toes are short and stumpy. His second to largest toe is bigger than his “big toe.” Little hairs are long and skinny on each one. Not beautiful feet. But Steve loves them all the same. He lets his nose come close, ghosting down the arch of Bucky’s feet.

Bucky jerks, a whisper of a laugh between his lips. “I’m ticklish, Kitten. Be easy.”

Steve sits back on his own feet and lets himself focus on the way his fingers move, how the lotion lets him rub smaller circles into the skin, how he debates on working knots he finds in the middle of Bucky’s arch. He likes the moments where his brain can go quiet and he can just focus on his Dom. Bucky’s so good for him. Too good for him.

Steve lays his head near Bucky’s leg. He knows Bucky’s only doing this to indulge in him. Steve’s a prince in Bucky’s eyes and whatever he wants, he seems to get. The more they fall in love, the gentler Bucky gets. It’s not bad. It’s good. Steve likes the adoration. But he likes the other things too. He likes the sweat on Bucky’s brow when he hits him. He likes the purr of his voice as he’s strapping Steve into that fucking machine. Steve likes the gentle side, but he wants the firmer side too. But he knows with what looms on the horizon that it may just be inaccessible to them for now. Or maybe forever. Bucky is needy, whether he wants to admit it or not. He feigns being fine when Steve knows better. Bucky’s a bundle of rattled nerves that’ve taken one too many beatings and he’s coming apart at the seams.

It’s not that Steve wants to hover or baby Bucky, because he doesn’t. He wants to just love Bucky. Use those same gentle techniques that Bucky uses on him. An even playing field. A safe space. Home.

Bucky starts to relax into the sofa. He’s got an arm swung over his eyes, only the tip of his nose and lips exposed. Red lips that just minutes before were humming up and down Steve’s cock.

God. Steve wants that again. He wants everything Bucky’s ever given him.

“Sir,” Steve squeaks out.

Bucky pulls his arm away and looks at Steve, face blank.

“Can I have your cock? Please?”

Bucky looks at his watch and then at Steve’s face. “Ah shit. I could never say no to you.”

Steve smiles, spoiled and full of the adoration his Dom feels for him. He latches onto Bucky’s cock quickly. Bucky’s hand still almost in the way from when he’d unzipped his pants. Steve sucks, soft and gentle.

Bucky pets Steve’s head, his fingers combing through strands of hair.

Steve lets his eyes slip shut. He’s not sure if he fades away or if he actually falls asleep, but either way, when he wakes up, there’s a note next to the sofa that says _with Jen xoxo_ and his jaw aches wonderfully.

* * *

Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 1min  
Has anyone noticed the News is starting to point fingers at Rogers again? I thought there was a gag order?? #RescueRogers

Vogue @Vogue – 3min  
25 Murderers with 25 different looks. See how these fellas dressed to impress in the courtroom! Vogu.kr/0415SRgq8

Bucky sits in Luke’s kitchen with Luke and Jen. All stainless steel, stains and knives. Matt came to the initial contact, but Bucky thinks the fewer people around the better. The cooks talk to each other, fading in and out of English and other languages. They bang pots and pans, hitting silverware against silverware. Bucky wants to be annoyed except he thinks they’re doing it for his benefit. He looks to Luke and then the affirmation is there. The sounds drown out what he and Jen say to each other.

Jen has red and purple bruises around her wrists. She’s hiding one side of her neck with her tumbling wavy hair. Bucky frowns, touching her shoulder.

“You okay?” he asks.

Jen’s sad smile is the only answer he needs. No. She’s not okay. None of this is okay. She’s been toyed with and manipulated just as much as Bucky has been. No one that interacts with Norman gets out unscathed. Even Harry’s very own best friend, Peter, has been manipulated and threatened. Now he sits in some room with people he doesn’t’ know who hurt him.

Bucky’s stomach squeezes. He has to save Peter. He has to save them. Jen. May. Clint. Steve. Himself? Gwen? All of them. They’re all tangled up in this web and Bucky is the only one able to cut them down. And Jen. He can’t do this without her. He has to save them _with_ Jen.

“So I’ll be quick,” Bucky says as he scoots closer to Jen on the metal stools Luke supplied. “We’ve gotta get to Jameson. I don’t know if he’s bought or not, but we have to figure it out.”

Jen scrunches up her lips. She looks at her green nails and picks at one of them for a moment. Bucky sees a purple bruise around the shellac. He cringes.

“He’s not bought. I’ve been digging. He’s just convinced Steve’s a murderer. Norman may have sway but he doesn’t have a judge on his side.”

Bucky’s heart sings. A shiver excitedly runs up and down his spine, scampering and celebrating. “So we can talk to him? Tell him about all this?”

Jen shrugs. “He’s watched more than I am. Or you. He makes Norman nervous because he’s the Achilles Heel. With Jameson in the know, Norman crumbles. So he’s watched. We can’t get near him without tipping Norman off.

“What about us?” someone says behind them.

Bucky turns around, his skin on fire. He relaxes when he sees Matt and Luke together. Luke’s wide and standing with his arms crossed. Matt is thinner and unassuming, but there’s always been a power in there that Bucky couldn’t quite place. A peculiarity. A secret. They stand like superheroes, all sure and confident. Bucky wants to believe in superheroes.

“We can’t risk you like that,” Jen says.

“Jen.” It’s Luke who speaks now. “Trust us. We can do this.”

Bucky’s heart is up in his throat. It’s pounding away and he feels like he’ll vomit at any moment. Risking more people just makes his head spin. He couldn’t forgive himself if Luke and Matt got taken too. Or Foggy? Karen? God, he hopes they’re safe right now. It makes him nervous now when he doesn’t hear from people.

“I don’t know if he’ll believe us,” Bucky says. “We have to somehow get our voices to him.”

“Could do a recording,” Luke says. “I’ve got a camera and it’s old, so I know it ain’t bugged.”

“This could,” Bucky pauses because he’s so used to the rug being pulled out from under him now, “this could work.”

Jen smiles and nods at Luke who immediately grabs Matt and the pair exists the kitchen. Jen hops from her bar stool and the metal clangs on the tile floor. It’s loud and unapologetic, a celebration. A victory. They’re so close.

“Jen,” Bucky says, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. She’s not dainty by anyone’s terms. Her skin is thick, her muscles thicker. She’s a powerhouse on her own volition and Bucky wouldn’t want to find her on a bad day. But she’s good, kind and honest. She believes in the law and she believes in fighting the good fight. She’s the embodiment of what the law stands for and Bucky couldn’t ask for a better opposing counsel. He just wishes they’d been brought together by a better circumstance. He’d love to battle it out in court with her one day. Just not on this case.

Jen cocks a brow, her green eyes flicking from her wrist and up to Bucky’s face. She doesn’t pull away. She waits, patient and calm.

“I’ve gotta tell you something. Something I’m not proud of.”  A weight hits Bucky’s chest and it takes all his might to breathe through it. “I’m in love with Steve.”

Jen sits back down on the metal stool. Her face isn’t happy. But it’s not sad. It’s—conflicted. Bucky had expected no less.

“And he loves me,” Bucky whispers. He can see the room darkening with his crimes. They’re not _illegal_ , but they’re certainly unethical. One may think it unfair but Bucky understands why the rules of ethics are stern on sleeping with clients. Conflicts of interest. Taking advantage of a client. Manipulation. A power play. There are countless reasons why attorneys aren’t supposed to sleep with their clients and Bucky knows them all. But he’d done it anyway. He’s not sure what kind of person that makes him. Was this even the right thing for Steve? Was it what he needed? Or did Bucky manipulate him into believing he did? Bucky’s heart squeezes.

“Wow,” is Jen’s response. “I mean—I thought it was weird about him living with you but given the circumstances, I just assumed it was cause of Norman.”

“It started cause he’d been evicted from his apartment. I mean—total housing violation. Lawsuit right there.”

Jen snorts.

“But I had no idea about Norman at the beginning. I just thought this was some dumb chivalrous kind of guy who got caught in a bad situation. I even—I even thought he’d done it at first. I mean, not intentionally. But I did think he’d killed them. But then things just got so big and we got—distracted.”

Luke and Matt come back in, Luke holding his camera that Bucky’s sure was made in the 90s. It’s overly large and clunky. He has to load a videotape into the side. Matt’s holding a tape player.

“We’ll talk later,” Jen says, patting Bucky’s hand. She offers a smile, but there’s disappointment in her eyes. Bucky isn’t sure if it’s because of his actions or something else. Maybe she wants them to work out but she knows the end of the story. Maybe she’s ashamed of Bucky’s behavior. He’s not sure.

“Okay.” Luke gets everything set up and puts the camera on his shoulder. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

Jen and Bucky scoot close so their shoulders are touching. They take big breaths and then one after the other, they explain their story. The words flow freely, there’s an elation now, a freedom they haven’t felt since this all started. Their hands become animated, their bodies shift and move forward. Excitement. They’re winning. They’re doing this.

Then Bucky’s phone buzzes. It’s from a number he doesn’t know. He finishes up with the recording, hoping whatever it is can wait. It buzzes again. Then a text comes through.

Once finished, Bucky hops from the bar stool. He hears Jen excitedly chatting away with Matt and Luke but the words blur into unintelligible inflections. His eyes glued to the picture before him.

Steve’s face is battered. His body bleeding. He’s hogtied and Bucky can’t tell where he is. He looks at the text below the image.

 _This little piggy went to the market_.

* * *

Bucky’s been on the phone with Stark since he’d left Luke’s bar. He’d screamed and yelled, angry that Tony had promised Steve would be okay. He’s relieved to know Steve’s still in the loft and Tony and Sam are with him, but what he’d been through—Bucky can’t erase that from his mind. And Bucky hadn’t been there to stop it.

When Bucky gets to the loft, Steve’s on the couch with a blanket around his shoulders. There’s a cup of tea on the coffee table but it doesn’t look touched. Sam’s on one side, gently rubbing Steve’s back. Steve’s staring off into the distance, wringing his cracked hands. There’s bruising around the wrists.

“Oh Jesus. Steve, what happened?” Bucky drops before Steve, taking his hands. He kisses them, careful of the bruises around the knuckles. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. He continues staring.

“He hasn’t said anything since we got here. And mind you—I got here the second I was informed there was trouble.”

“And why didn’t you know sooner?” Sam barks.

“Because Bucky had—we turned off the cameras and audio. To give them privacy.” Tony shoves his hands into his pockets, looking away with a dusting of red across his cheeks.

Bucky hates himself. It’s his fault this happened. If it had been him who tied Steve up, there would’ve been happiness. There would’ve been an understanding and a respect that Steve hadn’t been given. It was a mockery. Norman was mocking Steve for being a sub. It wasn’t about anything else. Norman was _mocking_ Steve.

“I’m so sorry, Kitten. I’m so sorry.” Bucky keeps kissing Steve’s hands. He touches the wrists and then Steve jerks back, hissing. Bucky’s heart breaks, spilling blood and flesh to dye his insides red. He shouldn’t have left. Norman was never going to leave them alone. He should’ve known better.

“Don’t call me that,” Steve whispers, his voice hoarse and cracked.

Bucky scoots back, his spine arched, head down. He’s nothing but a bucket of shame and wrong decisions. This was an attack on Steve’s very essence. Someone came here to abuse him. They knew what Steve liked and they turned a beautiful scene into a horror film. Bucky isn’t sure he can every fix that.

“Hey Buck?” Sam touches his shoulder. “Can we talk?”

Bucky stands up with Sam’s help. He feels so much heavier now. His body aware that it’s over 200 pounds of solid muscle. Yet for all its power, he’s helpless. He can’t protect Steve. He can’t protect Clint. He’s done everything wrong. He danced when Norman said to dance and now he’ll die when Norman says to die.

They move to the far edge of the loft by the kitchen. Sam looks over at Steve, his brows pulled together, lips turned down. There’s a misty look to his eyes. He’d been crying.

“The guy who was here—he didn’t break in or anything. It was Brock.”

Bucky’s heart stops, a cold sweat tingling around his body.

“Steve let him in and no one knew anything was wrong until it was too late. One of the guards outside heard screaming and that’s when he told Tony. They got Brock somewhere, probably asking him questions or whatever. But—you know that’s beside the point right? Doesn’t matter that they got him. He got to Steve first.”

“I’m the worst fucking boyfriend on the planet.” Bucky leans against the granite countertops, his fingers pressing into the cool rock. He can feel his shoulders trembling. “I can’t do anything right.”

“No one knew Norman would know about Brock, let alone find him and use him against Steve.”

“But he did,” Bucky says. “He did and that’s something I can’t ever save Steve from. He’ll always know I—I let him down.”

“We all did, Buck. That’s on all of us. I was supposed to be here but Steve said Brock was coming over to talk and I trusted it. I—I knew too. I knew and I didn’t do anything cause I thought it’d be okay. And I knew that asshole when he was with Steve! I should’ve known better.” Sam’s trembling, tears still in his eyes. They’re both broken men who would die for Steve, and yet neither could because they’d both failed. Neither was worthy of someone was beautiful as Steve. They’d allowed the world to take Steve, chew him up and spit him back out.

Now Steve sits in the loft without any agency of his own. He wrings his hands. He stares at the wall. Tony talks to him but Bucky knows Steve’s not in there anymore. He’s rushed to the only place that’s safe. He’s not there. Because Sam and Bucky weren’t either.

“Do we know for sure it was Norman?” Bucky asks in a low tone.

Sam nods. “He got paid to do it.”

“Did he? I mean—did—”

“No! God, no! Nothin’ like that. He hogtied Steve up and beat him to hell and back but no, nothin’ like that.”

Bucky hates that he breathes a sigh of relief. There’s nothing to be relieved about, and yet Bucky’s still glad _that_ didn’t happen. There’d be no return from something like that. Steve’s already so broken. Pushed too far and he’d just stop existing.

“We’ve got some people going to the judge to see about exposing all this. It could be all over soon,” Bucky tells Sam. “We just need to last a little longer.”

Sam looks over at Steve, heaving a big sigh. “I don’t think that matters anymore. Norman pulled all out psychological warfare on Steve. No matter what happens now, we can’t take that away. He’s won somehow. Jesus. Fuck!” Sam slams his hands on the counter and growls. “Fuck!”

Bucky crowds closer, squeezing Sam’s shoulder. “I know how you feel.”

“I’ve known that stupid kid most of my life. I never expected this. I—God.” Sam drops his head into his arms. He cries as silently as he can but the loft is so large and his sniffles echo around them.

Steve doesn’t look their way. He keeps staring. His knuckles are bleeding from how much he’s wrung his hands. He didn’t need to be raped to be broken. Brock knew that. Norman knew that. Broken now, Bucky doesn’t know what to do. He needs to find Steve in there, bring him back and give him what was robbed.

“I need to be alone with him,” Bucky says. “Can you come back in like, two hours?”

Sam wipes his eyes but nods. He doesn’t ask what’s going to happen next. He may not even want the answer. He goes back over to Steve, kisses his cheek and whispers he’ll be back.

Tony walks out with Sam, his face apologetic.

Bucky looks around the kitchen. He pulls out a spatula, a wooden spoon, and a butter knife. He brings them over to the coffee table and sets them down.

“I know you’re angry,” Bucky says. “I’d be angry too.”

Steve doesn’t look up.

“I can’t take back what happened to you. All I can do is help you through I now. You’re stuck and I need you to come through because I’ll—I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t help you. I don’t care if you need to leave me now. I don’t—I don’t care what happens to me, but I need you okay, Steve.” He picks up the spatula and swats his hand with it. It stings and leaves a red mark, just as Bucky expected.

He puts the spatula in Steve’s lap, takes his own shirt off and turns his back to Steve. “Please—just use me. Get it all out.” Bucky balls his hands up when he hears Steve’s fingers stop wringing. The room is too quiet now, a shock that has hushed the echoes of the walls, paused the ventilation.

No. Bucky doesn’t want this. He’s only subbed when it was Natasha and it was only for education and teaching. Not _true_. But he knows Steve needs to reclaim himself. He can’t get it back if he’s been robbed of himself. He can’t move forward if he doesn’t express what’s pent up inside. Nothing Bucky could do to him could bring Steve back. It has to be this way. Doms would die for their subs, and Bucky would die for his.

“Please, Steve,” Bucky hisses through his teeth. He’s shaking, fear and anger coursing through his veins. He wants to scream until his lungs are bloody. Anger this deep, anger so tightly wound inside that he almost feels calm—he can only imagine the rage inside Steve.

Steve stands up and walks over to the coffee table. He puts the spatula down and picks up the wooden spoon. He looks at it and then looks back at Bucky.

Bucky nods.

Steve puts it down and then picks up the butter knife. He taps it against his fingers. _Thap thap thap_ echoes into the room.

The butter knife was the one Bucky was most afraid of. And of course, it’s the one Steve picks up. A range so tightly bound… Steve’s inside his body, screaming and crying to get out. His face?  A picture of sheer calm. Eyes cold and distant. He gets closer to Bucky and Bucky’s muscles clench. He winces, forcing his body to stay put. He wants to run. He’s afraid.

“Do it,” he says.

Steve trails the knife down Bucky’s spine, his eyes transfixed on the metal.

Bucky shivers, the bite cold and haunting. A predator ready for the final killing bite.

Steve puts his hand between Bucky’s thighs and pulls his legs just a bit more apart. He undoes Bucky’s pants and lets them fall to the floor.

Bucky whimpers. Everything in his body is screaming at him to reclaim this moment. He feels his autonomy rushing away in a gust of wind. He listens to his uneven breathing, ever-aware that he can’t do anything to change the outcome of _this_ story. Steve needs this. And Bucky has to give it away.

The first bite of the knife surprises Bucky. It’s by his right shoulder blade and it races down into his ribs. He doesn’t get a moment to catch himself because it hits him again. Again. Again. They’re testing hits. Ones without purpose except to explore. They move about his back with no rhyme or reason. There is no love. There’re no kisses or soft praises of ‘what a good boy.’ There’s silence. A brewing storm that’s about to break.

And Bucky is _horrified_.

A sharp bite cuts into his inner thigh and Bucky cries out. He almost falls to the floor but he feels Steve grab the back of his neck.

“Stay put,” a hoarse, worn voice orders.

Bucky grits his teeth. The pain isn’t as bad as the turmoil this has caused. Brock is the true villain in Steve’s story. He’s the man who robbed Steve of his comfort, his self-respect. He’s the man who twisted Steve’s desires into something sinister and left him abandoned and broken for someone else to pick up. He’s the reason for Steve’s failed relationship with Sharon and Peggy. The reason Steve cried in a cage. He’s the dark shadow of Steve’s dreams and this is how he can finally rid himself of it.

This is how he defeats Brock. Bucky just hopes there’s skin left on his body when Steve is finished.

Slice after slice. Bludgeoning after bludgeoning. The knife is thrown away and replaced by the wooden spoon. It beats into Bucky’s back, biting and gnawing, pulling skin and nerves away from bone and blood.

Bucky falls to his knees when his thighs can’t take it anymore. He screams, the anger inside him unfurling. A hatred he didn’t know that’d been brewing since he heard the name _Brock_ filling him. His hands tingle, his mouth foams. He wants to kill Brock. The anger he feels, the pure and unfiltered anguish that Steve’s expressing with each hit of the spoon until it splinters against Bucky’s back and he’s left with nothing but the spatula—Bucky will never forgive Brock for what he’d done to Steve. Bucky only wishes he could kill a man more than once to express his feelings for Brock. And he’s never even met the man.

But he feels the whole story as Steve discards the kitchen utensils and starts to push Bucky, starts beating him and crying. He’s pounding on Bucky’s chest and Bucky can’t breathe. He keeps his hands behind his back to so he doesn’t stop Steve.

Through the pain, the sounds of fists beating into flesh and bone, he can hear Steve screaming.

 _Why. Why. Why_.

Steve collapses atop Bucky, sobbing. He clutches Bucky, his fingernails digging into skin. He’s trembling, saliva pooling beneath his heavily breathing mouth. It cools against Bucky’s chest, sticky and abandoned.

Bucky can feel wounds weeping all over his skin. He closes his eyes, trying to breathe evenly now. He lets his anger go on each exhale. His shoulders relaxing. His spine melting into the floor. He wraps a heavy arm around Steve and kisses his head.

“Proud of you,” he whispers.

Steve’s answer is a broken sob. He clutches Bucky harder, curling his body into Bucky. He’s trembling so violently that Bucky isn’t sure there isn’t an earthquake.

Bucky looks at the back of his hand and sees angry red lines from the wooden spoon. He looks up his arm and gasps when he sees split skin, more red lines and bruising. He grabs Steve and rolls them so he can sit up.

Steve just whimpers and wraps his arms around Bucky’s torso, his head in Bucky’s lap.

Pain sears all around Bucky. He feels heat leaving his body, the room’s chill penetrating him in each and every wound. He strokes Steve’s hair despite how badly it hurts his arm. “Proud of you,” he says again.

Steve sniffles, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. He takes a deep breath and Bucky can feel how hard he’s trying not to cry.

The sun goes down before they speak again. Bucky lets his wounds air and weep, more concerned with the man in his lap than his own body. Steve goes in and out of crying. Sometimes he sleeps. It’s nearly 10PM before Steve sits up and looks at what he’d done to Bucky. He covers his mouth, eyes round and watering.

“No,” Bucky says, taking Steve’s hand away from his mouth. “I asked for this.”

“I—but—”

“I’m proud of you.” Bucky reaches behind Steve’s ears and grabs them to force Steve to look at him. “I couldn’t be prouder of you.”

Steve lets silent tears stream from his eyes. He looks down at his hands and then at Bucky’s body again. “Why?”

“I knew this was the only way to let you work through this.”

“You could’ve beaten me.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Bucky shows Steve his own battered hands. “You really think you’d let another man touch you the way he did ever again?”

Steve doesn’t answer. He looks down, shame hardening the muscles of his face.

“I’m proud of you.” Bucky feels like a broken record. But he’ll say it a thousand times over if it means it’ll stick in Steve’s head. His body is wafting with pain, the chill of the room slicing into him and making him feel sick, but he’ll keep saying it if only it reaches Steve once.

“Lemme—lemme help clean you?” Steve asks.

“Course, baby.”

Steve gently helps Bucky up to his feet. Bucky doesn’t mean to, but he cries out when he stands, his knees shaky and giving out. Steve gets a hand around Bucky’s middle and throws the other around his neck. He walks the two of them to the bathroom and leans Bucky on the sink.

Steve turns the shower on and puts his hand out under the water.

Bucky uses the moment to look behind him at the mirror. His back is redder than flesh. Wounds seep blood and have picked up dust and dirt from the floor. He’s not sure if he can wear a shirt without discomfort but he’ll put on a brave face for Steve. They’re so close to having this over. Then Bucky can tell the Bar his deepest secret and maybe he can move forward with Steve.

Or maybe Steve doesn’t want him anymore. He’s not so sure after the way Brock just treated him.

“You know I’d—I’d never do what Brock did to you.”

“I know,” Steve says. “Water’s ready. Lemme help you out of your underwear.” He kneels before Bucky, his hands pulling Bucky’s briefs down to his ankles. One by one, Steve picks up each foot and tosses the underwear aside. He stands back up, his face sad, eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“Proud of you.” Again. And Again. And Again.

Steve doesn’t respond. He helps Bucky into the shower and cringes when Bucky lets a yelp pass his lips.

Guilty, Bucky bites the inside of his mouth to keep himself from doing it again. He hadn’t expected the water to hurt.

“I’ll wash you off,” Steve says. He slips out of his own clothes and gets into the shower.

Bucky turns around and lets Steve wash off his back. Slow and careful ministrations work tiny circles into Bucky’s back. The loofa is warm and soapy and the soap stings but the thought of being clean helps Bucky relax into it.

“What did we just do?” Steve asks after he finishes cleaning Bucky’s back. He starts cleaning down Bucky’s ass and thighs. “What did—I do?”

“Reclaimed yourself. I think. Or at least that was my goal.” Bucky crosses his arms and lets warm water pool against his chest. He drops it when it gets too full and it warms his toes.

“Is that something that’s normally done?”

“I don’t know, Steve. I don’t have all the answers. It just—felt right.”

“Did I—scare you?” The tightness in Steve’s voice makes it impossible for Bucky to want to tell the truth. Of course, Bucky had been scared. Terrified. He’d never seen a man go from a complete disconnect to a flourish of anger so quickly, but that didn’t mean he’d ever stop it. He knew it needed to happen and he let it. He’d consented and whether it was right or wrong, it doesn’t matter now. It’s over. Steve is speaking again.

“No. I trusted you.”

Steve doesn’t sound convinced. He huffs out a sigh and turns Bucky around and begins to wash his torso.

“I love you,” Bucky whispers.

“I know.” Steve traces his fingers down the lines on Bucky’s body, wincing. “This wasn’t a scene though. I—I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“I know what you were thinking. Can we just move on?” Bucky grabs Steve’s face and presses a kiss to his nose. “You needed this. And I gave it to you. That’s all.”

Steve frowns one more time but drops his head to Bucky’s shoulder.

Together, they huddle in close. Both listening to the steady stream of the shower. It’s the type that dumps water right above you. It helps keep Bucky warm and it’s easy to share the water. Quiet like this, just the steady rhythm of the shower and their breathing, Bucky closes his eyes. Steve’s strong, his body hard and still. A strong man was still hogtied by someone else. Honestly, Bucky doesn’t even know what Brock looks like but he can’t help thinking that he looks a little like himself. People have types.

“I would never hurt you,” Bucky whispers by Steve’s ear. “I swear.”

Steve squeezes Bucky a little. “I know.”

Bucky prays he truly knows. Bucky would go to the ends of the earth and then some for Steve. He’s given himself up for Steve, body, soul, hell—even his career. He’d told Jen. There’d be no backtracking now. Bucky’s committed to seeing through his confession.

They get out of the shower when the water starts to turn cold. The night is quiet and Bucky can’t help but remember tomorrow is the last day. He either chooses to let Steve die or the others. He prays Jameson pulls through. All they have is tomorrow.

Bucky wonders what’s in Steve’s head now. He watches Steve get dressed in soft pajama bottoms, flannel and warm. Is he scared? Is he pissed? Bucky wants to know what’s going on inside Steve’s brain. His own brain is fixated on the pain in his chest that gets fiercer with every breath and the clock.

“Steve,” Bucky says, and his voice cracks.

Steve looks over, his lips slightly parted.

“I can’t lose you.”

Steve smiles the kind of smile that shows no happiness. His shoulders slump and he looks so much smaller than his usual size. He crosses the room and takes Bucky’s hands. Kissing them, tracing the blue veins with the tip of his nose.

“Please,” Bucky says because he’s accepted he’s absolutely pathetic. He doesn’t want to live in a world that Steve isn’t in. He knows that Matt and Luke are working on getting to Jameson but he doesn’t know how long that’ll take and he doesn’t know if any of it will even be taken seriously. Or even if any of it _matters_. “Don’t make me lose you.”

“So you’d kill Peter? Your friend?” Steve’s mouth is a thin line, one that Bucky knows is full of disappointment.

“M’selfish.” Bucky drops his head on Steve’s shoulder. It’s warm and he turns his nose in to inhale. Milky and fresh from the shower. He traces Steve’s body with his fingers, loving how soft Steve’s skin is.

“I can’t let people die because of me, Buck.” Steve kisses the side of Bucky’s face. “I don’t wanna leave you. But I can’t let anyone die. We just have to hope the Judge listens.” Then he pulls away, leaving Bucky cold and alone. Steve is the sun, Bucky the moon. They chase each other, over and over but never meet. When it is day, it’s day. When it is night, it’s night. Bucky wants Steve to be his forever, but the moon cannot have daylight. Steve’s mind is made up. Bucky has to accept it.

If they don’t make it to Judge Jameson, Steve will die.

“You’d think our last night would be full of a good meal and a ton of fucking,” Bucky says as he sits on the bed. “But honestly, I just wanna eat cup noodles with you on the couch and cuddle.”

“That sounds perfect, Buck.” Steve makes his way over to the kitchen and starts fixing them something. Hopefully cup noodles. Maybe if Bucky eats enough sodium his already frantic heart will just explode and he won’t have to face the oncoming decision. Or maybe he won’t have to because Luke and Matt are out there trying their best. Matt’s at least a lawyer. He’ll know how to go about contacting a judge. Bucky just has to trust his friends. This whole time he’d been doing everything alone. But then a day came where he realized he just couldn’t. He needed Matt and Foggy. They’ve helped astronomically. Karen too. Jen. Luke. Peter. A village pulled together and without them, Bucky would be lost.

“Hey,” Steve says as he puts down two bowls of what Bucky assumes is ramen. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“That what you want?” Bucky asks, walking over to the couch. He drops down and Steve folds into him, grabbing the remote.

“I just wanna be with you. So—a movie’s great.”

They take entirely too long to pick a movie. Both talking and reminiscing on various movies they’ve already seen. Their ramen gets cold. Bucky wouldn’t change it for the world though. If this is to be their last night together, this is exactly how Bucky wants to spend it. Laughing. Kissing. Holding each other. There’s no frantic need to fuck into Steve or perform some astronomically hard scene with him. The energy swims around them, a group of chirping dolphins. They whisper into their ears, making smiles wider, eyes brighter.

Sleep finds them, whether they want it to or not. Limbs tangled. Necks in odd positions. They don’t leave the couch, too afraid of what breaking the moment would be.

* * *

Bucky wakes to about twenty text messages. He peers through his sleep-ridden eyes and reads the senders’ names. Natasha. Sam. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt. Matt.

Bucky sits up, heart thudding. He scrolls the texts, afraid and excited. His body is shivering with anticipation. It dances through his toes up to his twitching fingers. Jameson saw the videos. Jameson believes them. He wants to _meet_ with them.

 _When? Where? We’re all being followed!_ texts Bucky.

He looks over at Steve who’s all huddled up in a ball with a blanket. He’s got his fingers resting on his bottom lip, almost like a child nursing a thumb. Bucky doesn’t want to wake him, even if this news would far beyond make up for it.

Bucky goes over to the kitchen and starts muddling around for some breakfast food. His phone chirps. He zooms back over to read the text.

_He’ll be at my apartment. Luke’ll be there too._

Bucky could cry. _Finally. Finally_ , things are starting to go right again. They’d gotten behind but the race is almost over and their horse is kicking up steam again. Bucky kisses the phone and skips back over to the kitchen to make breakfast. He’ll tell Steve the good news when he wakes.

* * *

Matt’s apartment is rather large for Hell’s Kitchen. Though what it has in size, it loses in the terrible neon light that beams right into it. Bucky can’t stop staring at the horrid pink colors from outside. He guesses this is what makes rent so cheap and it doesn’t bother Matt any.

Jameson is sitting on the couch in regular clothes. Bucky often sees judges without their robes, but he always finds it like a fish out of water. There’s something odd about it. Jameson’s hair is salt and pepper, his mustache black and beady under his nose. He looks mean, except he’s here and he’s willing to listen.

“Your Honor,” Bucky says as he goes to shake Jameson’s hand, “thank you so much for meeting with us.”

Steve stands off to the side, his hands in his jean pockets. He looks shamed but maybe he’s just nervous. His brow is pulled together in that adorable pout of his, lips twitching and smashing together.

“Well, you certainly know how to get my attention.” Jameson’s voice is gruff and no-nonsense. He looks to Steve, sizing him up. “You’re a lot bigger in person.”

“I—oh. I’m sorry.”

Jameson’s brows rise. “Sorry? For genetics?”

“He’s nervous,” Bucky says.

Jameson doesn’t waste time in asking Steve his side of the story. He grills him hard and fast, shooting questions one after the other, much like he was trying to make an attorney break in the middle of an oral argument. Steve holds his ground though, his truth carrying him through until the end.

Jameson sits back, huffing. “Jesus.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says.

“Where’s the kid and his aunt? Your friend?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says. “That’s the scary part.”

Jameson sighs, rocking back and forth. “I’ve got some friends. I’ve always thought Norman to be a bastard but I didn’t expect him to be this type of bastard.”

“If I don’t make a decision tonight, then he’ll kill them. We have to act fast.” Bucky starts wringing his hands like Steve does. His heart hasn’t slowed down since he woke up and he’s dizzy from being so close to the end of all this madness.

“I know. Just wait, okay? Lay low. I’ll make sure you don’t have to see that man again. You have my word.” Jameson stands up, taking Bucky’s hand and giving it a pat. He doesn’t smile. Bucky isn’t entirely convinced the man knows how to smile. But he’s fair. And best of all, he’s not bought. Unless this is all an elaborate scheme and Bucky’s just doomed them all and ninjas are going to burst through the windows. Bucky wouldn’t put it past Norman to have ninjas.

“You know—I was entirely convinced you’d killed those boys,” Jameson says to Steve.

Steve’s brows rise.

“I mean, it’s not for me to decide anyway. That’s the jury. But Norman had me convinced.”

“He had me convinced, if it’s any consolation.” Steve bites the corner of his lip. “Thank you for helping us. I just want Peter and the others safe.”

“I’ve been doing some thinking about that,” a familiar voice says.

Matt and Luke both move into fighting stances, again, something that absolutely freaks Bucky out about Matt. Bucky wouldn’t be surprised if he was a CIA agent or something.

Tony stands in the doorway with two others behind him. Both with dark skin, a man and a woman. The woman sports a smirk and the man’s face is peaceful, confident. “See, I figured once we got the judge on our side, we’d need some help figuring out where Peter and Co. are. And well—who better to call than the two smartest and richest people I know.”

“My name is T’Challa. I’ve heard you’ve been in a bit of a rough place.” T’Challa reaches his hand out to Steve.

Steve, blushing and flustered takes T’Challa’s hand and looks over at Bucky like he’s forgotten what English is.

“We’ve located where they’re holding your friends, so whenever you’re ready, Your Honor,” the girl says, “we’d really like to kick Norman’s ass and absorb his company into our own.”

“Shuri!” T’Challa scolds, though he’s smiling.

The girl, Shuri, just shrugs and laughs.

Jameson looks at Bucky, one long and drawn out heavy gaze before he sighs and goes over to T’Challa and Shuri. “We’ll be needing some good cops and I’ll write the warrant.”

“Great!” Shuri says. “Cause I’ve already screened these guys and they’re all clean.” She shows Jameson a tablet and scrolls down, showing off the names and pictures of various police officers.

Steve starts laughing, catching Bucky by surprise. Bucky looks over, his brow crinkled.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, still smiling, “it’s just—this is the best moment of my life.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, “it’s almost over.”

“Not for Norman though.” Tony gives a wink in Steve’s direction. “He’s got another thing comin’.”

Bucky doesn’t know how to thank the people in this room. He pictures everyone who’s helped Steve out during this. Sam, ever vigilant and the best friend. Luke, the bartender who believes in real justice. Matt, the unsung hero of the day and close friend. Foggy, much the same. Karen. Tony. Peter. Sarah Rogers. Natasha. This community of good-hearted people who love Steve as much as Bucky does. Whether they’ve ever met Steve or not before this, they all love him. In one way or another. Because that’s the type of person Steve is. He’s got a big heart and that heart reaches out and touches the world. He ensnares it, even if it’s only to watch his demise. America fell in love with an alleged murderer because it was Steve’s face and Steve’s story. These people fell in love with the truth of Steve. Bucky too.

Finally. After so long. It’s all over.

* * *

MSNBC@MSNBC – 12hr  
BREAKING: Steven Rogers SETUP. Norman Osborn arrested outside of Hamptons Home. More on msnbc.com/1SRNO34  
  
ABC7 @ABCEyewitness - 10hr  
Judge J Jonah Jameson dismisses People v. Steven Rogers, citing conspiracy, kidnapping, and murder by Norman Osborn. abc7.com/JJSR13k

Mack Mackenzie @MackMackenziee – 4hr  
LOOK AT THAT LOOK AT THAT LOOK AT THAT! @CaptainCarolD @HailHyGrant #RescueRogers

Carol Danvers @CaptainCarolD – 3hr  
@MackMackenziee Jesus. Okay I was convinced. #RescueRogers

Grant Ward @HailHyGrant – 3hr  
@MackMackenziee So he didn’t do ANY of it?  
  
Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 2hr  
None of it. #RescueRogers was framed and setup. Thank God for @BuckyBBarnes who believed in him all along.  
  
Bucky Barnes @BuckyBBarnes – 30min  
<3 <3 <3 <3 @DaisySkyee  
  
Daisy Johnson @DaisySkyee – 5min  
OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU ACTUALLY RESPONDED TO ME!!!!!!! I HOPE STEVE IS OKAY AND HAPPY NOW! @BuckyBBarnes

Watching Norman be escorted from his building in handcuffs on the television with a glass of wine is the highlight of Bucky’s year. No, century. The newscasters have a lot on their plates tonight and Bucky watches each part with vigor. Steve’s a free man. Judge Jameson dismissed his trial and Steve got to walk away a free man. Jen gladly dropped the charges saying, “The State gladly withdrawals their charges against the Defendant Steven Grant Rogers and sincerely apologizes.” She’d said it with a large smile and the room had cheered. A room full of people touched by Steve.

But Bucky’s story isn’t over yet. Tomorrow he’ll tell the world of his lies. He’ll submit himself to the Bar and whatever will happen, he’ll accept it. Because Bucky may love being a lawyer but he loves Steve more.

He squeezes Steve, finally in the comfort of his apartment again. The French doors. The crowded blue kitchen. The mismatched furniture and the books and files. This is where Steve belongs. In Bucky’s arms, buried under blankets and sketching idly while the News continues its breaking stories. The journey was such misery that Bucky can’t believe it’s over so easily. He’d expected some kind of duel or last move from Norman. But he’d been met with silence and Norman in handcuffs. Sometimes the law works. Tonight, on the third night, Bucky doesn’t have to make the decision on whether Steve dies or not. He gets to hold Steve and kiss his neck. Because it’s over.

It’s all over.

* * *

MSNBC @MSNBC – 15min  
BREAKING: Photos leak of James “Bucky” Barnes and Steven Grant Rogers in unethical romantic relationship. Barnes to speak to Attorney Regulations in New York. More on msnbc.com/BBmk23

Tony Stark @TheIronMan – 10min  
Oh come the fuck on who gives a shit, Steve should’ve never been on trial in the first place! #RescueRogers

Peter Parker @TheWebHead – 2min  
More talking about how I was kidnapped by #NormanOsborn and less talk about how a decent man like #RescueRogers fell in love with someone.

Bucky sits in an office. A wooden chair. A wooden desk. Wooden bookshelves with countless legal books on ethics and torts reside behind the person in the nice leather chair.

The man seated on the leather chair is bald and dark skinned. He’s got a permanent unamused sneer and Bucky’s terrified he’s both the Director of the Disciplinary Committee and head of Attorney Regulations. The plaque on his desk reads NICHOLS J. FURY. Fury indeed. Bucky wonders if he’d changed his last name to match the sneer on his face.

“You’ve made quite the mess,” Fury says. He takes off his thick-rimmed glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Quite the fuckin’ mess.”

Bucky opens his mouth, but he’s not sure he’s allowed to speak right now.

“We’ve gotta open up an investigation on you and given the—nature of the leaked photos—well.” Fury shrugs. “Usually no one gives a shit when an attorney fucks up. But because _you_ represented _Steven Rogers_ , everyone’s gonna give a shit.”

Just like Bucky figured, Osborn had leaked all the images and video out into the internet. He’s done his best to report them, but they spread like wildfire. There’s nothing he can do about it now. The world knows what he does with Steve. It’s not a beautiful, intimate moment between just the two of them anymore. It’s distorted and blackened by the judgment of the world.

“I know I messed up,” Bucky says, staring at his shoes. “I’m not going to make excuses for my actions.”

Fury sits back, his head cocked to the side. He’s still sneering, but there’s something more gentle in his face, an understanding. He grabs a few of the photos on his desk and reviews each, one by one. “Damn.”

Bucky looks up, brow pinched. “He’s a sub. I’m a Dom. It’s not—it’s not what people’re saying it is.”

“My kid’s gotten into BDSM,” Fury says. “Fuckin’ freaks me the hell out because I don’t want a guy slapping her around.”

Bucky bites his lip, eyes averted. “It shouldn’t be like that. I don’t _like_ hurting Steve. But it’s just part of what we do. I’m the tool and he’s the artist. He tells me what he likes and I facilitate it.”

Fury puts up a hand and grimaces. “No more. I don’t—I’m gonna have a damn panic attack if I hear any more of this.”

“Cause of your kid? Or cause of me?” Bucky asks.

“My kid. I don’t give a flyin’ fuck what you do, Barnes. Except when you break the model rules of ethics. Then I give a shit. I know that Rogers was set up. But he _was_ your client. That raises serious concerns, especially given the nature of the relationship and his mental state. A guy wanting—this?” Fury shows the picture of Bucky swatting Steve’s ass until it’s near purple.

Bucky grits his teeth. There’s no beauty in the photo. It’s abuse now. Bucky’s the predator and Steve’s the unsuspecting victim. At least people will have another monster to crucify. Thank God it’s not Steve. This is the road Bucky chose when he first kissed Steve. First touched his body. This is the fate he chose the moment he let his heart fall for Steve. He doesn’t regret a moment of it. Disgraced and disbarred—Bucky doesn’t care. Steve’s the only thing that matters to him now.

“I read the dismissal,” Fury says, “from Jameson. You were beaten by Osborn, threatened to have this all exposed and yet you still continued advocating for your client. You were kidnapped. Tortured. And you _still_ advocated for your client.”

Bucky meets Fury’s eyes, his lips parting.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that takes some serious balls.”

Bucky finds it hilarious tht the Director of the Disciplinary Committee curses like a sailor and talks about balls. He wouldn’t laugh out loud though. He’s still in hot water for what he’s done.

“We have to do an investigation. But I’ll personally recommend that you retain your license. We gonna fine the shit outta you, but I’ll advocate that you don’t get disbarred.”

Bucky’s ears tingle. He stands up and shakes Fury’s hand more than he probably should with a vigor he probably shouldn’t use. Elation is filling him like a balloon. Take all his money. Take his reputation. Bucky doesn’t care. But he’d never thought in a million years he’d be allowed to keep his license. He’d expected to have to get a job as a contract specialist for the rest of his life. Not that that would be bad. Contract work is fine work. Bucky just likes practicing law.

Bucky came to the law with one purpose: to represent people. People of all shades. All sizes. All genders. Guilty or innocent. Due Process matters to him and for every guilty person he does a plea bargain with, he finds an innocent one. An innocent, good person who was just at the wrong place at the right time. Those innocents make it all worth it. Steve makes it all worth it. The fame, the requests for talk shows and interviews—Bucky doesn’t give a shit about any of that. He came to the law to be a lawyer.

To help someone.

Tearing up, Bucky tries to brush them away but Fury’s too quick. He smiles, an actual honest to God smile!

“Be well, Barnes. We’ll be in touch.”

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers, because he doesn’t trust his voice not to crack.

* * *

MSMBC @MSNBC – 1min  
BREAKING: Attorney Disciplinary Committee Drops Barnes Investigation, Citing ‘Unusual Circumstances’ more on msnbc.com/bb1249d

They celebrate Steve’s freedom and the end of Osborn’s trickery with a party. Tony, Peter, his aunt May, Sarah Rogers, Wade Wilson (recently recovered), Sam and his mom, T’Challa, Shuri, Matt, Foggy, Karen, Judge Jameson, Luke Cage (Bucky finally learned his last name), Sharon, Peggy, Jen Walters, Clint, and Natasha are all there. They hug Steve, shake his hand, smile and take pictures with him. Sharon and Peggy kiss his face and laugh when they look over at Bucky because _everyone_ knows now.

Jameson is only there for an appearance but he gives Bucky a pat on the back and a curt “Good work, Barnes,” because shaking Steve’s hand and bowing out.

Shuri talks animatedly with Peter. Peter holds Wade’s hand and kisses his damaged face. Natasha and Clint huddle close, whispering low. Clint gets a boner halfway through the party.

Matt and Luke look pleased out of their minds. Foggy is loud and jubilant. Karen just laughs at him.

The party is colorful, full of streamers set up by Sam and Sarah Rogers. There’s cake made by Aunt May and T’Challa supplied a copious amount of board games that the room takes turns playing.

Steve keeps to Bucky’s side, huddling close, kissing Bucky’s shoulder and whispering that they did it. Bucky believes him. After a whirlwind mockery of the justice system, it’s all over. Steve’s officially out as Bucky’s boyfriend. Bucky’s _not_ getting disbarred. He does have to pay a ten-grand fine and issue a public and formal apology, but he won’t worry about all that right now. The party for Steve is his most important focus, _Steve_ is his most important focus.

The party winds down in the early hours of the morning and Steve asks Bucky if they can leave. They say their goodbyes to everyone remaining and go out into the cold night of a new year with a new purpose. To be together. To just—exist.

“Sir,” Steve says in the car.

“Yes, Kitten?”

“Can you put a cage on me when we get home?”

Bucky snorts. “Whatever you want, baby.”

* * *

Bucky wakes up to an unceremonious slap of fabric to his face. He opens his eyes, pulling the fabric—a corset—off him.

“Um,” is all his sleep-ridden brain can provide right now.

“Bucky,” Steve whines. He sidles up next to Bucky and his cock is struggling in the cage Bucky put him in last night. He rubs it against Bucky’s thigh though. “I wanna play.”

Bucky rumbles out a pleased sound in the pit of his chest and turns over, holding Steve close and pressing their crotches together. He rocks slow, letting Steve’s cock drag up and down him. “What do you wanna play, Kitten?”

“I found this in your playroom and I wanna try it.” Steve picks up the corset before tossing it on the bed again. “I think it’ll fit. Maybe.” He frowns, his confidence in it fitting is seriously doubted.

“Lemme brush my teeth.” Bucky rolls off the bed and does his best to walk steadily into the bathroom. His limbs are still heavy from being woken up so abruptly and he’s starting to shake from the sounds Steve’s making as he rocks himself in the cock cage. It must hurt to try to get hard in such a small metal thing but Steve’s nothing if not a champ (and a glutton for punishment).

Once Bucky’s out of the bathroom, he takes Steve’s hand and together they go into the playroom. After so long, it feels nice to just be able to look around at the objects, wondering which ones to play with. Bucky takes Steve over to some handcuffs that’re attached to the wall.

“Color?” Bucky asks.

“Green.” Steve’s already cuffing himself in, face facing the wall.

“What mood are you in, Steve?” Bucky asks, rubbing his hand up and down Steve’s exposed back. He lets his fingers dip in between the top of Steve’s asscrack before sliding them back up to his neck.

“A rough one.”

“So what do you want, Kitten?”

“You to hit me. Sounding. That corset. I just need you all over. I need—I need to feel you everywhere.”

Bucky drops his hand and walks out of the playroom. He says nothing, and Steve should know by now when he’s in full scene mode, that he often doesn’t say anything. He goes by the door and picks up a little brown box he’d been waiting to give Steve later. He’d just not known the proper moment. Now though, it just seems like it’s wasted if he doesn’t give it now.

Bucky comes back into the room and Steve tries his best to turn to watch. With patience and no rush, Bucky slowly opens the box to reveal a jewel-bedazzled collar. It’s thick, made for showing off long necks, like Steve’s. The jewels are red, purple and blue, an ombre of colors that sparkle in the light. The latch is a little locket in the shape of a heart and Buckys’ vibrating with excitement to watch the lock slip shut around Steve’s neck.

“Remember how we talked about you wearing a collar?”

Steve nods, eyes wide. He struggles against the handcuffs, watching to reach out and touch but not able to.

Bucky slips the collar around Steve’s neck and closes the little locket in the front. It fits perfectly, not too tight and not too lose. Its colors, poised around Steve’s neck glow with the beat of Steve’s pulse, faster and faster.

“Like it, Kitten?” Bucky asks softly.

Steve drops his head forward, trying to rub his caged cock on the wall. “Yes.”

Bucky takes Steve’s hips and yanks them back. “None of that.”

Steve whines, needy and pathetic. He makes a show of trying to get out of the handcuffs but Bucky knows better.

“Riding crop or tickler?” Bucky asks.

“Crop,” Steve rushes out. He’s shaking already, his legs remiss to fall at any moment.

Bucky takes his time with the crop. He lets it slide up and down Steve’s thighs, massaging Steve’s balls and up his spine to that pretty collar. “You look so good, Kitten. All mine.” He brings the crop between Steve’s asscheeks and pushes.

Steve moans.

“Wanna get my cock in you,” Bucky says, letting his mind shut off and his mouth do all the work. He doesn’t know what’ll actually end up happening in this scene, but that’s half the fun of it. He just knows it’ll be good.

He doesn’t hit Steve hard by any means. It’s enough to leave a red spot, a sharp echo into the air, but the crop is made of deer leather and its soft, more for show than pain. Bucky has plenty of other crops if he wanted to pull skin away. Which on Steve, he never does. He swats Steve’s back, reddening him up with a few licks and then focuses on Steve’s juicy, round ass.

“God, look at’chu. I just wanna eat that ass all day.”

Steve mumbles out something along the lines of “yes please.” Though Bucky’s not entirely sure if he was that eloquent. Steve’s already struggling to stand.

“Don’t fall, Kitten. You’ll hurt your wrists. Do you wanna hurt yourself? That’ll make me so unhappy.” Bucky strokes a hand down Steve’s spine before giving him a quick swat on the ass.

Steve yelps, “N-no, Sir. I don’t—I don’t wanna make you unhappy.”

“Then don’t fall.”

Bucky berates the backs of Steve’s thighs with the riding crop. One after the other, unrelenting and without pause. He watches red lines raise, one after the other until Steve’s upper thighs and bottom are a mess of red and shivering. He stops, using his hand to sooth the heated skin. He kneels behind Steve, spreading out Steve’s ass to lick his rim inside.

Bucky _loves_ eating Steve’s ass. He likes the way Steve mewls with every flick of Bucky’s tongue. He loves the tremble in Steve’s skin. Steve’s ass is warm and welcoming and invites Bucky’s tongue inside like an old friend. Bucky laps and sucks until spit dribbles down his chin and he can see how his bristly cheeks are raising tiny red scratch marks between Steve’s cheeks. He nibbles on Steve’s ass, peppering tiny bite marks along the curves, all the way down to Steve’s balls where he grabs them to give them a quick massage.

Steve howls, dropping his head against the wall.

“That cage botherin’ you, Kitten?”

Steve nods, a pitiful sob slipping past his lips.

Bucky grabs the keys to the handcuffs and undoes his baby boy. He brings Steve over to a fucking bench and lays him out on it, tying Steve’s wrists above his head. “Don’t squirm or you’ll fall off. Color?”

“Green.”

“You doin’ okay?”

“Yes.”

Bucky’ll use aloe over Steve’s wounds later. None are bleeding, which is a mega win in Bucky’s book. It’s why he likes the deer leather so much. He can be quick about his ministrations without worrying about breaking the skin. Nice plump lines without the mess or risk of infection. Plus it keeps the leather clean.

Bucky unlocks the cage around Steve’s cock and nibbles at the foreskin. He kisses Steve’s pretty cock a few times before grabbing a sound and some lube from a workbench.

Steve whimpers.

“Want this?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods vigorously.

“Wanna see if I can make you come with it in you.” Bucky lubes up his hands and gives Steve a few pumps, making his cock entirely erect and steady. He grabs the base and brings the metal sound to the slit in Steve’s tip.

Steve’s breath hitches.

“Breathe, Kitten.” Bucky presses the sound in, letting it slide in just a few inches.

Steve’s body tenses. He shuts his eyes, face flushing red. It’s an ocean of color swirling down Steve’s body and all the way to his dick.

“Is it okay?” Bucky asks.

“St-stings.”

“Want me to stop?”

“N-no, Sir! Please no, Sir!”

Bucky doesn’t stop then. He lets the sound slide in all the way, the bulb at the end the other piece visible now. “God, you’re so pretty.” Bucky kisses from the base of Steve’s cock all the way to the top. He sucks on the tip, careful of the sound inside. He gives his tongue a few swirls around, tasting metal and flesh both before popping off and grabbing the sound again.

Steve rocks up into Bucky’s hand, his eyes barely slits, lips parted. The collar pulses around his neck, drawing attention to just how pale he is. It’s a crime that Steve doesn’t do self-portraits. He’s so gifted with his art and his body is sculpted from Adonis himself.

“I love you,” Bucky whispers before slipping the sound in and out, pumping it properly. He uses his other hand to massage at Steve’s balls and the base of his cock.

Steve cries out, eyes screwing shut. He rocks with Bucky’s rhythm, a mess of unintelligible syllables and puffs of panted air. He’s a marvel, all splayed out like this, muscles shaking beneath skin, cock purpling from how bad it needs to come.

Bucky squeezes with his other hand, pumping up and down, letting foreskin trail along behind him, using it to help Steve feel so good.

“Sir, Sir, please no! Please no!”

“Color?” Bucky asks casually.

“G-green.” Steve grits his teeth, his face turning a shade deeper red. “Gonna—gonna come—I’m co—fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

Bucky watches come gurgle around the sound. It drizzles down Steve’s cock, barely enough to show off its milky color, just a shine that pulls focus to Steve’s purpling cock.

Bucky pulls the sound out gently, stroking Steve to try to coax the come out of his system. He milks it as best he can before giving it a kiss and lapping at the shiny drizzles of seed.

“F-fuck,” Steve pants out, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Shh, Kitten.” Bucky reaches up and touches the locket on Steve’s collar. “Be good for me, okay?”

Steve whimpers, a tear slipping from his eye but he nods. Doing his best to relax into the bench.

Bucky jacks Steve off until he’s hard again, a process that used to be a chore with Clint, but Steve’s so sensitive. He bounces back in minutes as opposed to Clint’s half an hours. Bucky grabs the riding crop and traces it up and down Steve’s cock. He circles Steve like a shark, a wicked smile on his face.

Steve watches, his eyes more alert than Bucky would like, but there’s a fear and apprehension in them that Bucky drinks up. Bucky misses the moments where he could let his masochistic fantasies fly. It was easier with Clint. Bucky doesn’t want to break, cut or hurt Steve—but a little pain never hurt anyone and Steve _likes_ it.

Bucky taps the crop on the tip of Steve’s cock, enough to pull focus.

“Color,” Bucky says.

“Y-yellow.” Steve’s answer is honest and he looks ashamed. He’s nervous, and that’s okay.

“I won’t hurt you,” Bucky says. He taps the riding crop on Steve’s tip, enough to make Steve’s eyes flutter. “This okay?”

“Yes.”

“Is more okay?”

“A little.”

Bucky disregards the memory of Steve being fine with clothes pins on his balls but a soft riding crop is where he draws a cautious line. It’s not Bucky’s choice to determine what Steve can or cannot take. It’s Steve’s. Bucky taps the underside of Steve’s cock, giving it a few good hits and then rubbing the crop up and down.

Steve moans.

“You like that, Kitten?”

Steve nods. “Yes, Sir.”

Bucky takes the crop up between Steve’s tits and gives it a few thwacks there, harder than he did on Steve’s cock. Steve can handle the pain here. He watches Steve’s eyes go wide, his throat straining as he groans from the ferocity of how hard Bucky brought the crop down.

Bucky drops the crop and lets his fingers run up and down Steve’s body. “You’re doin’ good. You’re so close to getting my cock.” He’s hard in his pants and frankly, burying himself deep in Steve sounds nice right now. Maybe they’ll even fuck in the bath. Warm water sounds nice and Steve’ll need it on his welts.

Bucky undoes the bonds around Steve’s hands and gently pulls Steve into his chest. He holds him, letting his fingers run up and down heated skin. “You’re doin’ so good, Kitten.”

Steve purrs and rubs his head into Bucky’s chest.

With a laugh, Bucky turns Steve around. “Don’t move.”

Steve doesn’t, but his gaze trails after Bucky, his lips twitching in excitement when he sees the corset.

Bucky brings the corset around Steve’s body and starts to do up the laces in the back. The fabric doesn’t cover his skin, but Bucky can make do with the laces. He’ll pull and pull until he leaves red lines in crisscrossed fashion across the white of Steve’s skin.

“Do you wanna look pretty for me, Kitten?” Bucky asks.

Steve hums out an affirmation and then promptly hiccups when Bucky pulls the laces as hard as he can.

“Can you breathe?”

“S-sort of.”

“Tighter then.” Bucky squeezes the laces harder and Steve has to reach out and grab the wall to keep from falling. He turns Steve around, looking at most of his work so far. “Hmm, these should be…” He trails off, rearranging Steve’s pretty tits until they have a proper cleavage. “There.” He traces the back of a finger down the crease where flesh meets fabric. “Like a proper lady.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Bucky’ll let that slip. He knows Steve isn’t opposed to feminization, but it’s one of the grayer areas with Bucky. He doesn’t like demeaning women. Which means he doesn’t like demeaning men who dress or want to wear traditional women’s clothes. So he doesn’t.

“Can you still breathe?”

Steve nods.

“Hmm.” Bucky walks around Steve and ties the bottom half of the corset as tight as he can get it. His fingers burn from the pull and strain he’s inflicting upon them. Once he’s finished, he runs his fingers up and down the curve in Steve’s waist. He’s always had a dip in the waist but now—now it’s a beautiful curve that makes Bucky’s dick twitch. He leads Steve over to the mirror, whispering in Steve’s ear, “Look at’chu. So fuckin’ pretty.”

Steve blushes, his eyes downcast.

“No no.” Bucky grabs Steve’s jaw and forces him to look at the reflection. “Look. At. You.”

Steve does, his body trembling. He breathes in tiny intervals and Bucky knows he can’t take breathing like that for too long. They have to make this quick or he’ll pass out. But that doesn’t mean Bucky won’t enjoy it for all it’s worth. He presses two fingers to the base of Steve’s throat, right under the collar and pushes with enough force to make Steve gurgle.

“Color?” he asks.

“Green.”

Bucky goes over to a workbench and then returns with lube and a pocket pussy. He wraps his hands around Steve, lube drizzling into the silicone toy’s gaping mouth. “I’m gonna fuck you with this.”

Steve breathes out a stilted attempt at a sigh. He leans back into Bucky, shoulders relaxing.

“Try not to pass out just yet.” It’s meant as a joke, but Bucky doesn’t want their scene cut short by virtue of oxygen.

He covers Steve’s cock slowly, rolling the pocket pussy from side to side. It burbles up Steve’s cock, lube and air both rushing to accommodate Steve’s wide girth. He uses his other hand to tweak at a nipple, pulling and twisting. Delighted in Steve’s little attempts at squirming away, only to scoot himself further inside the toy.

Steve’s hips are eager and he starts fucking into the pocket pussy, his breath short and uneven. Lips pale.

Bucky puts Steve’s hand over the toy and says, “Fuck yourself. I wanna watch.”

Steve does as instructed. He fucks into the toy, his lips parted, breath tiny and short. He keeps looking up at Bucky for affirmation.

Bucky grabs a silken rope and brings it under Steve’s collar. He twists it behind Steve’s throat and squeezes a little.

Steve coughs.

“Color?”

“G-green.” Steve has to work to get the word out. His face is draining of its pink hue, lips still as pale as creamy skin.

Bucky tightens the rope around Steve’s throat, watching Steve’s hand pump faster with the toy. He leans in close to Steve’s ear, licking and breathing hot air against it, earning shivers and whimpers from Steve. “That’s it, Kitten. Make yourself feel good. Look at how pretty you are. You like this? Want me to make it more?” Bucky squeezes the rope hard and cuts off Steve’s breathing entirely. He loosens up a bit when there’s the slightest bit of distress in Steve’s eyes. “Shhh, you’re so good. So good.” He brings a finger down to Steve’s ass and fingers round that pretty pink rim of his.

Steve cries out, his arm working faster with the toy.

“Come whenever you need, Kitten.”

Steve does. He doubles over and struggles to breathe, lips beginning to fade to purple.

Bucky wastes no time in undoing the knots of the corset. He cuts Steve out, running fingers over the grooves in Steve’s skin from where the string cut into flesh. They’re deep and remind Bucky of train tracks, a perfect journey on Steve’s perfect skin.

“So good,” Bucky says, stroking Steve’s sweaty face. “So good for me.” He kisses Steve on the mouth, slow and easy. He rolls his tongue into Steve’s mouth and lets Steve suck on it before pulling back. “Want my cock, baby?”

Steve nods, nuzzling into Bucky’s stomach.

Bucky picks Steve up and together they end their scene in the bedroom. Bucky’s gentle, stroking over Steve’s rim with adoring fingers, fingering and kissing that tight hole until it’s shivering and pleading to be fucked. Bucky goes slow, letting Steve feel all of him, in and out. In and out. Hips move like ocean waves in the night, quiet and serene.

The bed doesn’t move or shake with their thrusts. Steve hardly makes a sound. His lips are swollen and parted. His tongue flicking out to wet the corners of his mouth. He stares at Bucky like a disciple stares at God. It unnerves Bucky, making him aware of his body, aware that inside him, only a mortal heartbeat.

But it beats for Steve. And Steve may look at Bucky like some deity, but it’s Bucky who worships Steve. He makes his offerings at Steve’s alter, each kiss a prayer. Each touch a donation.

Bucky comes, startled and unprepared. He feels heat rise inside Steve, watches the flush of Steve’s red-flushed skin. They kiss.

They kiss.

Steve comes again, untouched and between their thrusting bodies. He mewls into Bucky’s mouth but his kisses become eager, more frantic with the rise of his climax. Arms wrap around Bucky and they roll over together, lips never tangled.

Steve pauses atop him, rocking his ass back and forth. He stares down at Bucky, his eyes tired and the color of his pupils faded. He’s fucked out, ready for some good aloe and Bucky’s more than happy to give it to him.

“Was this all good?” Bucky asks.

Steve nods and drops down so he’s cuddled up close to Bucky. It always amazes Bucky that Steve’s several inches taller and yet he can make himself so small. A talent from a man who just wanted to blend into the world and do a little good with it. Bucky kisses Steve’s forehead.

“This was good,” Steve replies, voice heady. “The crop didn’t scare me as much as I thought. I just remembered when we did something like that before. I got—a little nervous.” He crumples up in Bucky’s arms, ashamed of his honesty.

“Hey,” Bucky says, “that’s what this is all about. We learn. If something we do ends up not good, then it’s not worth doing. This is all for you, baby.”

Steve sulks, dropping his chin on Bucky’s sternum. “What about you?”

“I’m more than happy with getting what I get. Don’t you worry.”

Steve shivers and Bucky thinks it’s high time he grabs the aloe and lotion to coat Steve’s bruises and welts. Bucky kisses Steve on the forehead and then rolls away to grab the aloe out of the bathroom and snags the shea butter from the dresser.

“Lay on your tummy for me?”

Steve does, humming happily.

Bucky drizzles aloe over Steve’s back and works it onto the skin. He inspects each mark he’d left to make sure nothing needs to be bandaged. No broken skin. Bucky calls that a win. He rubs down Steve’s thighs and over the mounds of his ass. He can’t help but bend down to pepper kisses between Steve’s shoulder blades or the curves of his perfect little ass. Steve’s response is a giggle. Soft, tired and from the soul.

“What happened with Brock?” Steve finally asks. “After he—when Tony got him?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky says. “I never asked.”

Steve frowns.

Bucky taps Steve’s butt and Steve turns over and lets Bucky start getting aloe on his chest and tummy. “You don’t look happy.”

“I’m happy about this. Just—I hope he’s in prison or something.”

“We can always check. But if he’s not, I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

Steve reaches up and puts a hand on Bucky’s cheek. It’s light and warm and startles Bucky with its presence. Steve’s movements should be easy to see, but he moves like a ghost, a cat—someone who’s never wanted to be noticed.

“No more murders,” Steve says. “I don’t think I could deal with another one. Fake or not.”

Bucky smiles, kissing the tips of Steve’s fingers. “Sure thing, Kitten. The collar okay?”

Steve touches it with his free hand and nods, a curl to his pouted lips.

Bucky bends down to kiss him. Their lips unrushed. Kissing Steve is like breathing in the crisp mountain air of the Rocky Mountains. Or experiencing what it feels like to see a whale leap out of the ocean for the first time. Bucky’s heart rushes. His toes curl. His body tingles. Steve is wonder incarnate. Adventure. Love. Excitement. Adoration. He’s a prayer Bucky didn’t know he had.

Bucky gets them under the covers, Steve sticky with aloe and shea butter. Bucky sweaty from their scene. They’ll need to shower eventually. Bucky also needs to get them water. But right now, he rests his forehead against Steve’s and inhales. Steve does the same.

Eyes closed. Lips parted.

Fingers brushing each other.

Bucky doesn’t know what tomorrow brings. He doesn’t know what a year from now brings or a year after that. But he does know this—Steve was and _is_ worth fighting for. And he will always be there for as long as Steve needs him.

—End.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

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